


heart to heart, melt me down

by celestialfics, noahfics



Series: firefly [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bad Flirting, Implied Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9081310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialfics/pseuds/celestialfics, https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahfics/pseuds/noahfics
Summary: “Yes. Sorry. Yeah, sure,” Tadashi babbles. The pinkish flush on his cheeks is red now, he can feel that his back is warm, too, and suddenly, the coffee spilled on his shoes is the least of his problems.“I’ll get going, then,” Kei says coyly, turning on his heel.Tadashi doesn’t know if it’s possible to die of embarrassment, but if it were to happen to anyone, it would definitely have to be him.
In which Kenma's parents own a coffee shop, Tadashi works there, and Tadashi is in stupid love with the elusive son of the bakery owners just down the street.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so we decided to try our hand at cowriting and so far its been really fun!!!  
> we hope that you like the fic as much as we love to write it :')  
> title from ed sheeran's "firefly" !!

Yamaguchi Tadashi is trustworthy. Such has been the case for forever.

Growing up as an only child, he had always been entrusted with tasks beyond the capability of a person his age. Oftentimes, while his parents worked late nights, he would have to cook some sort of makeshift dinner for himself, shower himself, and get himself into bed.

No doubt influenced by his childhood, Tadashi remains trustworthy and capable. It’s for this exact reason that the Kozume family has left him in charge of their small coffee shop for the time being.

It’s a non-issue, because it isn’t terribly busy anyway; there’s a line of customers, but there’s only four of them, and Tadashi has a to-go cup under the spout already. A twenty-something-year-old woman stands under the checkout counter and impatiently taps her toes against the ground, but things are under control, really.

The small rush—Tadashi isn’t even sure if he can _call_ it a rush—passes without incident, and he sets about wiping down the counters, which is, if he’s being honest, a long overdue task.

He doesn’t need to keep busy since there’s nobody else around to direct him, but he does anyway, because he feels strangely high energy. It’s half because of the iced coffee he has been sipping for the past half hour, half because he’s coming off of a glorious _nine_ hours of sleep. Added together, he’s feeling suspiciously fantastic.

Odd jobs and the occasional order keep Tadashi moving until two that afternoon, when a frazzled looking person Tadashi can only assume is an intern walks through the door, list in their hand and determined expression on their face.

When Tadashi explains that they’ve run out of the chocolate chip scones, the person visibly deflates, surveying said list with furrowed brows.

“Eh—” Tadashi’s hand rubs at the back of his neck, “I can phone the bakery down the street and see if there are any more?” He says this almost apologetically, because it’s really the best he can do for the customer. It does seem that they _really_ want this specific pastry, though, so it’ll have to do.

He slips off to the back room, nimble fingers dialing the familiar number of the Tsukishimas’ bakery. His fingers tap at the top of the receiver, and he makes a small noise of surprise when it’s picked up on the third ring.

“Ah—Akiteru!” he greets. “Hi. It’s Tadashi.” Tadashi doubts that he really needs to introduce himself, since he calls so often and Akiteru _definitely_ knows who it is, but he digresses. Quickly, he asks the favor, and much to his relief, Akiteru says that they’ve just taken a pan out of the oven and that he’ll be sure to send Kuroo down with a box.

“Lifesaver. That’s what you are,” Tadashi says gratefully, hanging the receiver back up.

It saves him from having to disappoint the customer; they don’t seem thrilled for the wait, but since Tadashi is already busy making _twelve_ (he’d all but gawked at that) coffees, it’s going to be a wait anyway.

Kuroo arrives just in the nick of time, pushing through the glass doors with ease and setting a pink cardboard box down on the counter as Tadashi finishes up the twelfth coffee.

“Lifesaver,” Tadashi reiterates, sighing. “Do you want drinks to take back?”

The Tsukishima family—Mari, Shiryu, and their two sons (and Kuroo, who fits into the mix somehow)—are kind enough to provide the baked goods for the Kozume family’s coffee shop. In return, Tadashi sends them back with their caffeinated beverages of choice.

The elder Tsukishima son, Akiteru, is fond of the coffee shop, often stopping by to buy drinks and chat up with the other customers while on delivery duty. The younger doesn’t come by, though; he’s never the one to deliver the pastries or come in for a chat. As far as Tadashi knows, he and the elusive Tsukishima son are the same age, and he seems to be much more inclined to be the one doing the actual baking rather than the delivering.

_Baking—_ it’s a skill Tadashi doesn’t really possess himself, so he often finds himself in awe of the Tsukishimas’ confections. While they stock the traditional favorites at his workplace: croissants, scones, muffins, and cookies galore, the selection at the _actual_ bakery is far more impressive.

Little circular cakes, tiny triangle slices, and an array of other cute sweets fill glass cases. Shiny glazes top a majority of the little cakes, reflecting the soft yellow lights of the bakery.

“Mari and Kei are in today,” Kuroo answers in lieu of a greeting, yawning. “I think Kei takes his black.”

Tadashi, naturally, knows just what Mari and Kuroo take, but he barely recognizes the name as the Tsukishimas’ other son.

In any case, after he sends Kuroo off with three travel cups and his profuse thanks, he quickly settles back into the quiet atmosphere of the coffee shop.

With the scones restocked, counters cleaned, and customers sated, things are smooth sailing from now on.

* * *

 

The next morning, Tadashi is definitely relieved to see Kenma. He can only assume that means that either of his parents, Koharu or Atsuo, is around as well. It’s likely that Atsuo is back in the office; it’s a cramped room in the back, though, stuffed mostly to the brim with cardboard boxes. Tadashi marvels at how Atsuo can spend any time back there at all.

But then again, the coffee shop is _busy,_ primarily due to the fact that it’s Saturday. People are chattering, grouped up at tables. In the window, a group of teenagers are huddled up, each sipping at their beverages. Two girls lean on each other, and a small group of four people in business attire sit at a table nearby, having a lively discussion about god knows what. (Tadashi surely doesn’t know, or particularly care to find out.)

“Someone’s going to come by soon,” Kenma says. His tone reads _bored_ , like nothing has ever interested him in his life, but he has that sort of look about him ninety-nine percent of the time—the odd one percent that he seems interested is when Kuroo visits, however brief that may be.

Tadashi hums his acknowledgement, quietly slipping behind the cash register. When Kenma works alongside him, they have an unspoken agreement; Tadashi takes register and Kenma makes the drinks. That way, Kenma doesn’t have to handle customer interaction—at least, not on the same scale as Tadashi. They find that it works out best for everyone that way.

Work drags, though. Tadashi cleans up a spill, courtesy of a toddler. The chocolate milk makes a sticky mess on the floor, and Tadashi is exceedingly glad that the Kozumes’ coffee shop sports hardwood floors as opposed to something more porous.

He cleans it up quickly, brushing off the toddler’s mother’s apology with a customer service smile, and settles back behind the counter, stifling a yawn in the crook of his elbow.

Kenma sets down a cup beside Tadashi when he returns, wordlessly returning to whatever task he’s currently working on before Tadashi can thank him. He gives a slight smile when he realizes the drink’s for him, thinks he could just wrap his arms right around Kenma and _squeeze_ him for providing a little pick-me-up.

He _won’t_ hug Kenma, though, because he can’t imagine that his shy friend would enjoy a hug, a tight one nonetheless, and so Tadashi just nods his thanks instead.

Between customers, he drinks the gifted iced coffee, humming in content. Kenma had let Tadashi plug his phone into the shop’s sound system, so despite the bone-deep exhaustion due to a lack of sleep, there’s at least a _few_ things currently going well. Customers come and go as they do; one he recognizes as a regular that’s brought a friend along with him. Tadashi greets the two as enthusiastically as he can manage.

Dimly, he’s aware of the jingle bell alerting them that someone new is entering, though it’s little more than a quick thought. He sees the customers off and picks up his drink, letting his eyes drift close for just a moment. It won’t dwindle his exhaustion any, at least not really, but he thinks, _hopes,_ that it’s some mental thing and that he might feel slightly invigorated.

Somebody in front of him clears their throat to grab his attention, and so Tadashi’s eyes snap open. The drink he’s holding is freezing against his warm hands, and the stranger before him, a blond with dark glasses, looks impatient.

Tadashi, feeling guilty for the moment of rest, gives what he hopes is an apologetic look and blindly sets the drink down beside him. He swears it’s like slow motion; the drink teeters on the edge of the countertop for just a moment before tipping and falling over, effectively soaking the bottoms of Tadashi’s pants and seeping into his shoes. He can feel the customer’s watchful (but unamused) gaze following every movement he makes.

He opens his mouth, as if in awe, and stammers out a brief apology, ducking behind the counter to grab a rag. Never mind the coffee seeping into his shoes and socks—he feels awful for creating a mess _and_ for wasting the customer’s time.

“I’m so sorry—” he’s quick to say when he faces the customer again, a pink flush settling on his cheeks. “We’re… a little busy today, and Kuroo…” he cuts off, sighing, “the delivery boy from the bakery was supposed to-”

Glasses guy clears his throat, silencing Tadashi once more.

“You’re Yamaguchi?” he asks, wearing the same bored expression as Kenma. Tadashi almost wants to laugh.

“I—Yes?” Confusion is evident on Tadashi’s face as he looks down from the customer and to the name tag stuck on his shirt.

“My parents own the bakery down the street.”

Tadashi gapes.

The stranger— _Kei_ , Tadashi now knows—grimaces. “They sent me to bring these.” Tadashi doesn’t know _how_ he missed the pink boxes, honestly; they’re glaringly obvious now. He feels _so stupid_ for making a fool of himself.

_Never mind making a fool of yourself!_ he thinks, mentally clapping a hand to his forehead. And if he goes off on an internal monologue about all the things he’s managed to do wrong in the past minute, well, he just hopes that Kei doesn’t notice. But—

“Yamaguchi?” Kei asks slowly, each syllable establishing its own presence as Kei speaks it, like it’s a question he’s asking for the second (or third) time. “Should I set these down here?”

“Yes. Sorry. Yeah, sure,” Tadashi babbles. The pinkish flush on his cheeks is red now, he can _feel_ that his back is warm, too, and suddenly, the coffee spilled on his shoes is the least of his problems.

“I’ll get going, then,” Kei says coyly, turning on his heel.

Tadashi doesn’t know if it’s possible to die of embarrassment, but if it were to happen to anyone, it would definitely have to be him.

* * *

 

Hinata’s voice is somehow louder over the phone. Tadashi actually holds the receiver a few inches away from his face when Hinata talks, just to lessen the blow.

“And, like, _ka-boom_ , you know?” He’s talking about— _something_ , right now, and that’s about as much as Tadashi can make of it. (He’s not quite fluent in onomatopoeias like Hinata is.)

“No. Hinata, really. I don’t know,” Tadashi admits, exasperated, and if his six hours at work today on two hours of sleep wasn’t enough to wear him out, just this conversation would’ve drained him to the core. But he loves Hinata, he does.

“Oh,” Hinata says, but there’s no way he’s offended by it. “Well, how was your day?”

Tadashi blinks. “Awful,” he replies without thought.

“How awful can working at a coffee shop be?” Hinata inquires innocently in response, and despite his innocence, Tadashi wants to rattle him.

“ _Awful_ ,” he repeats, but continues this time around, “but you really shouldn’t be one to talk. Have you ever even had a job?”

“Well, does babysitting count?” The way he asks the question implies that he already knows the answer.

Tadashi rolls his eyes. “Babysitting your own sister doesn’t count. Does she even need to be babysat anymore?”

Tadashi can practically hear Hinata’s pout over the phone.

“So, anyway,” Hinata speaks, eager to get the topic off of his lack of work experience, “your day.”

“My day,” Tadashi repeats back, but finishes the statement, “was long. The two hours of sleep I _did_ manage to get did nothing for me.”

“Two hours?” Hinata squawks out in disbelief, “Is that even possible? I wouldn’t be able to function on two hours of sleep. How are you awake right now? _Are you_ even awake right now?”

“No, I’m not awake,” Tadashi says dully. “I’m sleep talking, couldn’t you tell?”

“Why were you even up for that long?” Hinata continues with his barrage of questions, ignoring Tadashi’s sarcastic quip. “Were you talking to someone cute?”

Tadashi resists snorting. “As if.” He won’t admit that he accidentally stayed up far too late because he lost track of time while binging _Pokémon_ , but he did. “I _met_ someone cute today, though,” he says, before he’s even really thought about it or assessed the fact that Kei _is_ cute, and that somehow makes his day plummet even further.

“Really?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, kind of. I just…” Tadashi trails off, “It was Tsukishima Kei. And I spilled coffee on myself in front of him. And it was really embarrassing.” Recalling the day’s events has an unwelcome flush making itself at home on the apples of his cheeks.

“You finally met Tsukki?” Hinata asks, and for some reason Tadashi can’t imagine a guy like Kei having a cute nickname like that.

Tadashi’s head cocks. “You know him?”

“Yeah.” Hinata doesn’t seem to think their meeting circumstances are particularly relevant enough to tell Tadashi what they are. “More importantly, you think he’s _cute_?”

Suddenly, Tadashi regrets ever picking up the phone. He’s half tempted to press the red button and end the call while he’s ahead. He doesn’t.

“More importantly,” he counters, “I _spilled_ on myself. In front of him.”

“Oh, right.”

“Yeah. Kill me.”

“No, Tsukki won’t care, really. He’s… well, he’s Tsukki.” Hinata pauses for a moment, “Actually, maybe he would care. I guess he’s kind of like that.”

Tadashi takes this information with a grain of salt, mostly because it sounds like Hinata doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. “It sounds like you don’t even know him at all.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure he hates me, so.”

He makes no move to finish the statement, and though Tadashi’s a little curious, he doesn’t especially have the energy to listen to what he’s sure is a long-winded story about how Hinata and Kei know each other.

“Well, thanks for the help, Hinata.” He doesn’t quite have the heart to say ‘ _thanks for nothing_ ’ before he bids Hinata farewell for the night.

Hinata’s voice is bright, and the words he’s saying contradict the tone. “Sure. But really, Tsukki’s not that cool anyway. Be glad he won’t want to talk to you ever again.”

Suddenly he has the heart to say it. “Wow. Thanks for nothing.”

* * *

 

The ultimate conclusion that Tadashi comes to is that things cannot _possibly_ go any further downhill than they already are after his initial introduction to Kei. He’s not sure if this is true or if it’s just what he needs to believe to get through his Monday shift two days later, but it leaves him feeling strangely optimistic, so he decides he’ll roll with it

Kenma’s sure to pop his optimistic little bubble and inform him that this conclusion is wrong as soon as Tadashi mentions it to him. “Kei’s cold,” Kenma says, as if it explains everything. “and a recluse. That mishap will probably be the only interaction you ever have with him. He won’t know you for anything else other than that guy with the freckles who spilled coffee all over his shoes.”

Tadashi presses his hand to his heart, feigning gratitude. “That’s really comforting, Kenma.”

“Comfort is obviously my specialty.” Tadashi must be imagining Kenma’s half-hearted smirk.

“But really,” Tadashi says, leaning on his forearms against the counter. (It’s not the most sanitary position, probably, but Kenma doesn’t scold him. Truly, it’s not like Kenma would scold him for anything, but he digresses.) “If he comes by again in the future, can you just… deal with him for me?”

“Deal with who?”

Tadashi flinches at the sudden intrusion to their conversation, suddenly aware of the looming person standing in front of the counter. His skin freezes over immediately at the voice, which he recognizes from only a few days ago, and as he cranes his neck to look up at the intruder, his suspicions are confirmed.

Tadashi, rather than addressing Kei, pushes back from the counter and stands up straight, giving what he hopes is a discreet glance in Kenma’s direction. Much to his dismay, his friend is nowhere to be found; the door to the stockroom swings and Tadashi knows exactly what Kenma is up to.

“I—uh. Nobody.” Tadashi resists his flight response to follow Kenma right into the stockroom and leave Kei with no service.

“Nobody, hm,” Kei says, and his bored expression deviates for only a moment. “I don’t remember changing my name.”

If Tadashi had taken the time to think about what Kei had said, he would’ve realized it was probably the lamest thing he’d ever heard. But he doesn’t, because he’s been caught in the act and now he’s here again, under the scrutiny of Kei’s owlish golden eyes.

He decides to come clean. “Right. I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m still embarrassed from before.”

“Understandable,” Kei gives, and Tadashi doesn’t know how to take it.

Tadashi initially doesn’t wonder why Kei is here, just accepts it as if a fact of nature, but after a few ticks of awkward silence, he realizes that the bakery owner’s son—especially not this one—doesn’t just regularly pop in for no _reason_.

“So,” Tadashi slaps on his best customer service grin, “What do you need?”

“I need someone to come back to the bakery with me.”

Tadashi stares. “Sure thing. I’ll just—” he gestures vaguely, expecting Kei to understand, which he decidedly does not. He clarifies: “I’ll go get Kenma.”

“Okay,” Kei replies, pressing his palms flat against the countertop and leaning on them as he waits.

Tadashi cracks open the stockroom door and peers inside to see Kenma sitting on a box with his phone in his hand. “Get out here,” he says, and Kenma looks up at him. Tadashi would call the look Kenma gave him in response innocent, if he didn’t know better. “Kei wants someone to go back with him,” Tadashi elaborates, his slight frown deepening.

“You’ve got working legs.”

“Yeah, but—I mean, you aren’t going to make me—”

“It’s _my_ family’s shop,” Kenma interrupts, shrugging. “I need to tend to the customers.”

“The _customer_.” Tadashi stresses, “There’s one customer at a booth. _One_.”

“Sorry, Tadashi,” he says with a face that surely does not look sorry.

Tadashi wonders if somehow Hinata had spread the news to the entire world overnight that Tadashi thought Kei was kind of cute, and now the entire world had taken the matters into its own hands.

“ _Great business is built on friendship_ ,” Kenma recites the cafe’s mantra from memory, “and how will I make friends with the customers if I’m not here?”

“You better be that _one_ customer’s best friend by the time I get back,” Tadashi says through gritted teeth.

Kenma doesn’t acknowledge Tadashi’s imperative statement. “You’re on the clock, so don’t be taking _too_ long with Kei.”

Tadashi glares at Kenma, his face flushing. “Shut up,” he says, as if it’ll have any effect at all.

When Tadashi returns to the store’s counter, Kei is still leaning his weight against the palm of his hands, wearing the most utterly disinterested expression Tadashi has ever personally witnessed.

“Kenma is taking stock,” he lies. Why he’s bothering to cover for his friend, he doesn’t know, but it feels appropriate. “So, I’m going to help you.”

“It’s the same to me,” Kei replies, shifting his weight and lifting a hand off the counter to push up his glasses.

Tadashi realizes he doesn’t know exactly what he’s agreed to as they push open the cafe’s door and step outside: “Wait—What do you even need help with?”

Kei clears his throat. “Bringing boxes back out to your store, since _someone_ had to call out sick.”

“Kuroo,” Tadashi knows this immediately, because Kenma had been sick the week prior, and since the two live together, they always share illnesses. ( _Romantic_ , Tadashi thinks with a grimace.)

“Yes, _Kuroo_.” The name sounds like it hurts coming off of Kei’s tongue.

“Not a fan?” Tadashi asks, though he doesn’t quite know if it’s appropriate. (What are the boundaries here? He’s spilled on himself in front of this guy; that’s surely got to mean something, right?)

Kei’s response is deadpan, as is most else that he says at this point, “He’s like an annoying little brother, except he’s older than me, and Mom loves him more than me.”

Tadashi’s mouth drops open at the bluntness of it. (Apparently spilling in front of him _did_ mean something.)

“I’m kidding,” Kei clarifies. “That was a joke.”

“Right. Of course.”

Kei stops abruptly, and Tadashi glances up at the florescent sign signifying the bakery’s presence.

“This is it,” Kei says dryly. It seems ironic that the Tsukishimas’ bakery is so bright and cheerful, a stark contrast to Kei’s disposition.

“I’m not stupid,” Tadashi replies, “and I’ve been here before.”

“‘ _I’m not stupid_ ,’ says the one who spilled coffee all over his shoes the first time we met.” His glasses glint under the fluorescent sign.

“I really thought we were past that,” Tadashi groans. “I really thought you wouldn’t mention it.”

“I had to mention it,” Kei replies, pressing the bakery door open and holding it for Tadashi. A bell jingles as they enter the shop.

And Tadashi didn’t lie, he _had_ been here before, but it still takes his breath away when he walks inside. The shop’s empty, which isn’t quite unusual for this time of day on a Monday. The soft yellow lighting of the place paints everything, casting dim shadows and reflecting gently off of the glass display cases. He is drawn to one of the side walls, which is plastered full of family photos.

Tadashi offers a slight smile at one of the pictures in particular; Akiteru, donned in a cap and gown, hugs a sullen looking Kei close. In another, a curly-haired toddler reaches for the camera. Particularly in the earlier photos, the two seem incredibly close. Tadashi finds himself wishing _he_ had a sibling as well. (Instead, his parents had gotten him a hamster.)

“Are you done ogling at my family’s photos?” Kei asks, voice _slightly_ impatient.

“I—” Tadashi quickly shifts his gaze from a photo of Kei that seems to be several years old; his hair is a bit shorter than the somewhat unruly curls he sports now, he wears thinner glasses, and he does _not_ appear to be thrilled with the person behind the camera, as he dons an irritated expression. “I… yes. Yeah. I’m done looking!” Tadashi stumbles over his words. A scuff on the floor suddenly becomes of great interest to him.

Kei hesitates. “Okay,” he eventually says, “My mom put the boxes on the counter.”

Tadashi looks to the counter, cocking his head at the obvious lack of boxes upon it.

“The back counter,” Kei clarifies upon noticing Tadashi’s confused expression. He supposes that does make more sense than to leave the delivery boxes available for anyone to grab. Tadashi gives a pointed glance to the back counter, where a grand total of _three_ pink boxes sit stacked atop each other.

“I can grab two?” It’s almost a question on his part, because he’s very obviously confused. Kei isn’t weak; he could have easily transported three small boxes half a block down the street. The fact that Kei put in the _extra_ effort to walk down to the cafe and back instead of just carrying the boxes in the first place befuddles Tadashi.

Kei denies, “I’ll grab two. You can just get the one.”

Tadashi, though he doesn’t understand why his assistance is necessary, takes one of the pink square boxes into his arms.

“Oh, it’s heavy,” he notes, which makes a smidge more sense. “Do you put _rocks_ in your pastries?”

“Several rocks,” Kei says in the same way he’d say ‘it’s raining.’ “They’re the secret ingredient.”

“Mhm, right.” Tadashi grins as if this is a sudden revelation; as if it makes perfect sense. But the extra weight really isn’t really _that_ much, surely not enough to warrant recruiting another whole person. Tadashi keeps his mouth shut, though, resists the urge to comment in case Kei actually has toothpicks for arms that would snap if he carried too many boxes.

“Tadashi?”

He turns at the call of his name to see Akiteru stepping out of metal swinging doors, cheerful expression on his face as usual.

“I thought I heard someone come in.” Akiteru throws them both a wide grin, retaking his seat behind the cash register.

“I can’t stay long,” Tadashi says with an apologetic glance. “Kenma’s alone at the cafe.” He doesn’t mention that they only have one customer.

“It’s good to see you,” Akiteru says anyway. “I haven’t been on delivery duty for awhile now. It’s usually Kuroo, but—” He tosses a knowing glance in Kei’s direction, but Kei diverts his gaze as if he didn’t notice. “My baby brother here was telling me that you two finally met a couple days ago.”

Tadashi gapes and Kei flushes.

“He was?” Tadashi asks in disbelief.

“Oh, yeah. He said—”

“We should be going,” Kei interrupts, strategically hiding his face by adjusting his glasses. He heaves the two boxes off of the counter. “Kenma-san’s alone.”

“Right, right,” Akiteru replies, his face pulled into a doubtful expression. If he _does_ have something else to say, he holds it back for the time being and allows for the pair to exit the shop, pink boxes in tow.

‘Did you _really_ tell him about me?’ is what Tadashi wants to ask after they step outside, but since he has common sense and a little dignity, and since he can easily read Kei’s embarrassment, he doesn’t bother.

Kei doesn’t make a move to speak through the entirety of the walk, but the entirety of the walk isn’t all that long, so Tadashi doesn’t blame him.

Tadashi’s somewhat happy in a sadistic kind of way to see Kenma struggling with a rush of customers when he and Kei return, but despite this, he’s quick to set the box down and begin helping. Kei sets his own boxes down and lingers only for a moment, before he leaves without a word. Tadashi regrets not calling out a farewell to him as he’d exited the shop, but there are more pressing things to deal with for the time being.

When the rush of customers have all been served, Kenma lets out a deep sigh and wipes his arm across his forehead. Without thought, Tadashi gives Kenma a sympathetic look, but he takes it back a moment later. Kenma blinks at him.

“I think Kei-san has toothpicks for arms,” Tadashi says with pursed lips, looking at the three boxes that sit upon the counter, waiting to be unpacked.

“… _Kei-san_ ,” Kenma intones. “I think that Kei would vomit if he heard you call him that.”

Tadashi opens his mouth to defend himself, but closes it when he can’t think of what to say. Kenma just stares at him. “I… was trying to be respectful. Since I was also insulting him.”

“An interesting approach,” Kenma replies, walking over to the boxes and opening the one that sits on top. He takes one of the muffins out and takes a bite out of it, and then closes the box again. Tadashi glares at him.

“But really,” Kenma speaks again after he’s swallowed, “It wasn’t that bad—helping Kei—was it?”

Tadashi hesitates. Objectively, it wasn’t a bad experience, but in case Kenma takes that the wrong way and puts Tadashi on _helping-Kei_ duty forever, he doesn’t say so. (Mostly, he’s just not sure he could physically survive spending so much time with Kei. He kind of makes Tadashi feel like his insides are going to explode.)

“It was just _awful_ , Kenma,” Tadashi lies melodramatically, “He tried to trip me, like, five times on the way over. And I think he planted something on me. Like maybe a bomb.”

Kenma hums his acknowledgement, though he does _not_ seem convinced that Tadashi is being even slightly truthful (which he _isn’t_ , but there’s no reason to spell this out for him). Kenma gives Tadashi a knowing look before turning away at the sound of the bell above the door.

“One more thing,” Kenma says, glancing back over his shoulder, “If Kei ever needs more help, it’s your responsibility.”

Tadashi outwardly groans. “I really hate you, you know. I do.”

“Mhm, right."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we really appreciate the response this fic has gotten so far and hope that you all enjoy this part just as much as the last~

Yamaguchi Tadashi is bored. It’s not a rare feeling, really, but he’s especially feeling it now, in his fourth hour of his six hour shift.

It’s not a lack of customers; there has been a steady flow of no less than five or six in the cafe at a time, but he’s _bored._ He can nearly feel it in his bones.

Objectively, the cause isn’t incredibly hard to figure out. It’s just—maybe he’s expecting something, or subconsciously anticipating the arrival of someone.

He can confirm that this someone is not Kuroo as soon as he walks in the cafe doors. And Tadashi isn’t… disappointed to see him (really, he’s _not_ ). Kuroo hasn’t dropped by in a number of days since coming down with the flu, so it’s about time.

When Kuroo comes in, bell announcing his arrival, and cheerily says “I hope you two didn’t struggle _too_ badly in my absence!”, Tadashi really has to put effort into not audibly groaning. Kenma throws a glance in Kuroo’s direction, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge him. Kuroo pouts at the both of them.

Tadashi promptly gets to work on Kuroo’s coffee of choice, but he’s interrupted.

“Tadashi!” Kuroo calls back over his shoulder as he sets the delivery boxes off to the side, “I want to try something new today.”

Tadashi hesitates, cup in hand. “And what’s that?”

“Hm,” Kuroo contemplates with his forefinger and thumb pressed to his chin. “Just… throw in some stuff that sounds good.”

“Uh,” he responds, making no move to create Kuroo’s drink. “Do you have _any_ idea what you want, Kuroo?”

Kuroo sighs, giving Kenma a sideways glance, as if _Kenma_ knows what he wants, which he definitely does not.

“Tea?” Tadashi suggests; it’s a safe bet since Kuroo has recently gotten over over his flu, and it’s definitely different from his standard drink.

“He drinks green tea,” Kenma says, and Tadashi is grateful for the suggestion. After a moment, Kenma adds, “He always takes it from me when I bring it home.”

“I do no such thing!” Kuroo places a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. He frowns after he thinks about it for a moment longer. “I _did_ take a lot of it from you the past week, but I was sick, Kenma! Didn’t you want me to get better?”

Unamused, Kenma says, “I wanted you to stop taking my tea, Kuro.”

“Semantics,” Kuroo responds.

Tadashi averts his gaze. He’ll try his best to make some sort of spicy green tea concoction, and if Kuroo doesn’t like it, then it’s his own fault.

But averting his gaze doesn’t quite rid him of his friends’ unconventional flirting, as he’s still in earshot.

“Don’t you have to go back to work?” Kenma asks, deadpan, as though he wants Kuroo to leave. (Tadashi knows and Kuroo knows that that’s not true, no matter what he says.)

“Technically, yes,” Kuroo allows. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you _wanted_ me to leave. How did you manage to survive while we were separated these past few days?”

Kenma presses two fingers each to his temples, giving a quiet sigh. “I’ll see you at home today. You have to go back.”

“You _know_ Mari won’t mind if I take long,” Kuroo insists with a knowing smile, and Kenma closes his eyes so he can’t see Kuroo’s face.

“Go back,” he says, opening his eyes only to glare best he can.

“I’m hurt.” Kuroo says, melodramatic. “You’ve wounded me.”

“Something tells me you’ll find a way to heal.”

Kuroo hums in contemplation. “I think I know how,” he says.

Kenma hesitates, but—“I’m not going to kiss you.”

After an audible groan, Kuroo turns away from Kenma and approaches Tadashi, who has just set his drink on the counter. He pretends he hasn’t just heard that entire encounter, mostly for his own sake.

“I’m making Mari’s and—who else is in?” Tadashi asks, Mari’s cup already under a pump.

“Akiteru,” Kuroo responds, pressing his mouth to the lip of the cup. He blows gently at the steaming liquid.

By the time Tadashi’s finished with the other two drinks, Kuroo’s has cooled off enough for him to drink. He sips at it before making a small noise of surprise.

“It’s good!” he exclaims.

“You doubted me?” Tadashi replies, as if he hadn’t doubted himself.

“No, no, of course not.” Kuroo waves a hand, and Tadashi slides a four-slot travel carrier with two coffees in it across the counter over to him.

“Can I try that?” Tadashi asks as an afterthought, when Kuroo’s just began to put his own drink into one of the two empty slots.

Kuroo obliges and hands the drink to Tadashi without thought. The cup is hot against his fingers, and he brings it up to his mouth. After taking a drink, he hands it back to Kuroo.

“It _is_ good,” he confirms. Tadashi’s not especially one for hot drinks, but still the taste is unexpectedly enjoyable.

“You sound surprised.”

“He _sounds_ like he has to go back to work,” Kenma says from seemingly out of nowhere, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

“That,” Kuroo says, taking the cardboard carrier with him, “is cold. Even for you, Kenma.”

Unsurprisingly, Kenma is unaffected by the statement. Kuroo’s out the door with one last playful glance back at Kenma, but Kenma just shakes his head.

“What’s with that?” Tadashi asks after Kuroo’s left. “Why did you want him gone so much?”

Kenma heaves himself up onto a stool. “Because, Tadashi,” he starts, setting his chin on his hands as he leans his elbows on the counter. “I am not like you with Kei.”

“Not like me—” Tadashi questions, but cuts off sharply and flushes. “Shut up,” he says, “What does that even mean.”

“I think you know.” Kenma, who must be in a good mood, decides to end Tadashi’s suffering. “And anyway, Kuro’s unbearable when he’s sick. All he does is complain; at least I can get away from that at work.”

“He’s still sick?” Tadashi inquires, flashing back to just moments ago when he’d taken a drink from Kuroo’s cup.

“Not terrible, but yes.” Kenma nods. “He has what I had, so he should be fine in a few days.”

“He’s still sick,” Tadashi repeats. “And I drank his tea. Tea that _he drank._ ”

Kenma’s face falls and he says, “Which means _you_ might catch what we had. And if that happens, you’re not going to be able to come to work.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Tadashi groans, burying his face in his hands. “I haven’t had the flu since I was a kid. Do you think that means I won’t get it?” He’s grasping straws, here.

Kenma pauses for a moment, shrugging. Finally, he says, “I hope not.”

“Yeah, well, I hope not, too.”

Biology would disagree, but he hopes that hope is enough to save him from illness.

* * *

 

Tadashi’s in denial. His throat hurts, now, but it’s not the flu, he swears. In spite of the ghosting illness, he has invited Hinata and Kageyama over for a movie. (And while he’ll feel bad if they both end up as collateral flu damage, he’s not really thinking that far ahead yet. Because he _doesn’t_ have the flu, really!)

“Hinata! You suck!”

And Tadashi kind of regrets his decision. It was an impulse, a little ‘fuck you’ in the face of his illness, but now he’s starting to get a headache and maybe his pettiness towards things he can’t control isn’t worth it.

“Why do _I_ suck?! You’re the one trying to throw it into my mouth!”

Another piece of popcorn falls to the floor.

“You’re supposed to catch it!”

“I’m _trying_! Maybe if you actually aimed correctly, you—”

“ _Guys_ ,” Tadashi groans, wearing a pained expression. “Do you even know what’s going on in the movie?”

They both look guiltily at him. He sighs.

“I know,” Hinata says proudly after a moment’s hesitation, but when Tadashi encourages him to elaborate, he falls short.

Kageyama scowls. “If you’d been able to catch it on the first, second, third—”

“You _guys_ ,” Tadashi repeats, exasperated.

And after they actually, finally settle down, they snuggle into each other underneath one of Tadashi’s throw blankets. Tadashi feels a pang of… _something_ while looking at them, but he doesn’t particularly have the energy to assess it, so he focuses on the movie.

There are a lot of explosions in the movie, and at every single one, Hinata tries to recreate the sound himself. Surprisingly, Kageyama doesn’t smack him. (Tadashi kind of wishes he would, though.)

Taking into consideration the people Tadashi has surrounded himself with, it’s a wonder that he hears any of the remainder of the movie. Long since having forgotten about their friend’s headache, the two eventually resume their mission from earlier; Hinata never _does_ catch any popcorn, to nobody’s surprise.

When the movie’s over, though, somehow Kageyama is snoring. Hinata pokes gently at his cheek, but he doesn’t wake.

“Heavy sleeper,” Tadashi comments.

“Yeah,” Hinata agrees, looking up at Kageyama with an expression that Tadashi can only describe as admiration.

Now he’s really regretting inviting them over. He feels more sick just by looking at them. He doesn’t know how it’s happened—how he’s become constantly surrounded by couples.

Before he’s overcome with pity for his poor, single self, Hinata speaks up.

“Any progress with Tsukki?” he asks, cocking his head. Some of his orange hair splays against Kageyama’s shoulder.

“Pr—” Tadashi starts, but stops. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hinata cocks his head the other way, this time. “You know, your crush on Tsukki.”

“Hi _nata_ ,” Tadashi groans. “Don’t say it like that.”

“But that’s what it is?” Despite the embarrassment Tadashi is feeling in that current moment, he knows somewhere deep down that Hinata doesn’t _mean_ to upset him. He’s incredibly simple-minded, so what he says really is what he means. It’s a small consolation, but Tadashi has little choice other than to take what he can get.

“I said that I thought he was cute. That’s all!” he defends himself, but Hinata doesn’t take the bait.

“Right, whatever.” He waves a hand. “But do you want me to talk to him for you?”

“No!” Tadashi interjects immediately. Hinata talking to Kei about _crushes_ and _cuteness_ and god knows what else is practically Tadashi’s nightmare material. “That’s not—Yeah. Don’t do that.”

Hinata pouts. “But if you want—”

“I don’t want anything.” Tadashi is quick to cut him off. “Seriously. The less to do with Kei the better.”

Hinata furrows his eyebrows in disbelief, but shrugs. It’s a battle not worth his diminished energy, apparently. He lays his head on Kageyama’s shoulder, his eyes drooping closed.

Tadashi doesn’t remember inviting them to stay overnight, but since they’re already sleeping, he feels no need to tell them to leave.

* * *

 

Despite his persistent sore throat and dull headache, Tadashi makes it into work the following morning. He isn’t feeling enthusiastic; it had taken _everything_ for him to get out of bed, and even when he had, he had spent twenty minutes pondering texting Kenma to say he wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t come in.

He _isn’t_ sick with the flu, though; he’s certain it’s just allergies which he’ll be over by midday.

Kenma doesn’t seem convinced. When Tadashi walks through the cafe’s doors, his friend is already behind the counter.

“You don’t look too good, Tadashi.”

Though Tadashi knows exactly what Kenma means, he can’t help but give him a hard time. “Heartfelt, Kenma. That’s one of the kindest things you’ve ever said to me.” He even pretends to wipe a tear from his eye.

“You know my mom would tell you to go home if she was in,” Kenma says, handing Tadashi an empty coffee cup.

The exhaustion Tadashi feels—which is _not_ from being under the weather—makes him decide on a caffeine-heavy iced coffee as opposed to his usual, in the hopes that it will perk him up, if only slightly.

He drinks a full cup before they even have any customers, but by the time people do start flowing in, Tadashi feels as if he’s moving through Jell-o. (Electrically charged Jell-o?)

But still he persists. Kenma’s watching him closely, so he can’t show any signs of weakness.

Though it’s just then that—and Tadashi hates to admit it—his weakness walks right into the coffee shops doors.

“Hey,” Kei greets, nonchalant, “There’s some stuff to—” He cuts himself off upon sight of Tadashi, though he opens his mouth to speak again.

“I’m fine,” Tadashi states before Kei even has the chance to ask.

“Allergies?” Kei asks skeptically, and Tadashi almost wants to hug him.

“Yeah,” he says with a grateful smile, glad that finally someone agrees. (Kenma clicks his tongue disapprovingly from a distance away.)

“You needed..?” Tadashi trails off, gaze falling to the wooden floor in front of him.

“I need someone to come back with me and carry delivery boxes,” Kei says, stuffing both hands in his pockets. “But if you’re…”

“Fine. I’m fine,” he insists.

“Right.”

“But,” Tadashi says, curious, “Why do you walk all the way here when you need help?”

Kei blinks at him.

“I mean, you could text me if you needed help, and that would save you walking here and back,” Tadashi reasons, before he realizes it’s probably unprofessional. “Or—You could just call the cafe number. If you prefer.”

“I don’t like to call,” Kei states plainly, digging his phone out of his pocket and pressing it into Tadashi’s hands. (He really hopes he’s not sick now, because he wouldn’t want to get Kei sick, too.) “Just put yourself in as a contact. I’ll text you next time.”

Tadashi stares down at the screen as if putting in himself as a contact is a daunting task. He puts in the number, but then stares at the name slot for a good ten seconds. He’s not sure what to put: his family name, given name, or both? Any emoticons? It’s really too much to consider.

Since Kei is waiting on him, he types _Yamaguchi Tadashi★_ about as quickly as he can and proceeds to hand the phone back to Kei. He swallows thickly as Kei looks at what he’s put, clicks the phone off, and slips it back into his pocket.

Tadashi gives Kenma a hasty goodbye, to which he responds with a playful, disapproving shake of his head.

“I won’t keep you too long,” Kei says, pushing the door open. The way he phrases it makes something in Tadashi flutter, but he’s quick to shoo the feeling away.

“I don’t mind!” Tadashi says almost too eagerly, averting his gaze from Kei to his own shoes. “It’s—It’s probably good for me to get some fresh air with my allergies flaring up.”

Kei frowns. “Wouldn’t being outside make them _worse_? There’s a lot of plants on this street.” It’s true; this street is home to several businesses besides the two Tadashi is currently concerned with, and many sport window boxes filled to the brim with flowers. Trees line the streets they walk on, leaves scattered on the ground.

“Ah, no,” Tadashi denies.

“What are you allergic to?” It doesn’t seem like concern as much as it seems curiosity, and Tadashi scrambles for an answer.

He says the first thing that comes to mind: “Cats.” He’s _sure_ this isn’t true, but he reasons with himself that he doesn’t _one-hundred percent_ know; he doesn’t have a cat and he never has, so he can’t say with absolute certainty. Plus, it’s better than succumbing to the flu.

“So, you have a cat?” Kei asks. He’s oddly curious today, Tadashi thinks with a grimace. “Even though you’re allergic?”

“No. I don’t have one.” He can feel Kei’s gaze at the back of his neck and he doesn’t dare make eye contact. “There was one at… the train station.”

Kei nods. “So, you caught what Kuroo has.”

Tadashi can _feel_ , physically feel his cheeks heating up, and he wants to ask Kei why he even bothered to entertain the obvious lie. He doesn’t ask, though, just crosses his arms and continues onward, embarrassment weighing heavy on his shoulders.

“I don’t have it,” he insists stubbornly. “I haven’t gotten the flu since I was little.”

“That’s just more reason for you to have it now,” reasons Kei. “You never built an immunity.”

“Stop being smart,” Tadashi commands without thought, and hence his blush deepens.

Kei suppresses a slight chuckle with the shake of his head, and before long they’ve reached the bakery.

“You shouldn’t carry any boxes,” Kei states as they walk inside. “I’ll just get them.”

“I can carry—”

“Hey, Tadashi!” Kuroo greets from behind the register before they have more time to discuss this any further.

Tadashi stares at him, not responding. Kei lets out a puff of laughter at Kuroo’s expense.

“He won’t talk to you,” Kei explains, “probably because you got him sick.”

“That’s not—” Tadashi begins to argue, but stops himself. “I’m not sick.”

“You’re sick,” Kei and Kuroo say simultaneously. Kei glares at Kuroo, as if he’d stolen the words out of his mouth.

Tadashi purses his lips, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not,” he persists weakly.

Kei takes a step away from him, heading towards the boxes that sit on the back counter, where they had been the time previous. “I’ll take them all,” he says. There are four this time.

“But—”

“ _Tadashi_ ,” Kuroo groans from a ways away, as if their conversation pains him. “You _do_ realize he just invites you to keep him company?”

Kei’s jaw slacks, and he begins to craft a denial: “I don’t—”

“You do,” Kuroo interrupts before he gets very far. “Stop deceiving the poor boy.”

Tadashi looks back and forth between them. They have a unique chemistry, that’s for certain, but Tadashi can’t tell if Kuroo’s being serious or just trying to get a reaction, as he does.

Perhaps to mask his embarrassment, Kei quickly lifts all four boxes off of the table and beelines it for the door. Tadashi holds the door open for him, and Kuroo calls out for Tadashi to “Take it easy tomorrow! And I’m sorry for getting you sick!” as they exit.

But Tadashi still feels awkward as they walk back, Kei with four boxes and he with zero. What Kuroo had said, about keeping Kei company, makes a lot of sense when Tadashi observes the ease at which Kei carries four boxes. But… it still seems like a puzzle piece is missing from the final picture.

“If I text you,” Kei starts, speaking over the boxes, “it’ll be strictly for business matters.”

Tadashi blinks at him once, twice. He tries and fails to lift his stomach back up from where it’d plunged to his feet. So maybe Kuroo _was_ just teasing. “…Okay.”

The rest of the walk is tense on Tadashi’s part; he can’t quite think of anything to say, nor does Kei make any conversation. His mouth is dry, which doesn’t help his sore throat. He focuses on the sounds of the soles of their shoes scraping against the pavement.

“Kuroo’s right,” Kei finally speaks up after they’re back at the coffee shop, and Tadashi’s heart jumps. Kuroo’s right—about what? “You should rest tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Tadashi breathes. “Uh, thanks.”

Kei purses his lips, setting down the four pink boxes on the counter. Tadashi looks guiltily to Kenma, who’d watched him walk in with nothing.

“Looks like your help was really appreciated,” Kenma remarks, once Kei’s started on his way back to the bakery.

“I _could have_ gotten them!” Tadashi defends. He leaves out the part about Kei and Kuroo not allowing him to carry any due to his apparent ailment. After all, what Kenma doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt him.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, thank you all for your support of this work! we're really having a lot of fun with it and we hope it's just as fun to read for you all. 
> 
> also a quick note that akaashi uses they/them pronouns in this fic ! <3

Yamaguchi Tadashi is sick with the flu, bedridden, and surrounded by tissues. The emergency bucket beside his bed is unused and he prays it’ll stay that way, but his faith is diminishing. And besides this, he’s lonely, because all his friends are busy and away from their phones. (Not to mention that Kei hasn’t texted him yet.) He resorts to funny dog video compilations on YouTube.

He gets one text from Kenma around noon, but it’s not much assurance since Kenma just calls him a freeloader for taking a day off. Tadashi’s sure to remind him of the three days he himself had taken off the week prior due to the same illness, and that really, it’s Kenma’s fault for getting Kuroo sick and, in turn, getting Tadashi sick. So, long story short, he’s not a freeloader.

After he’s exhausted YouTube’s supply of puppy videos, he resorts to elaborate videos of cake decorating. One channel in particular is his favorite, though—and he can’t help himself from thinking this—her setup looks nowhere near as welcoming as the Tsukishimas’.

Conceptually, he can pick out some techniques here and there; they’re things he’s seen Akiteru or Mari doing behind the counter, though he _knows_ he would never be able to do them by himself. He probably wouldn’t even be able to do them with Kei’s help. (His heart threatens to jump out of his chest at the thought of Kei guiding him through the process of baking, but Tadashi quickly reminds himself that it’s merely a thought. They have a business-only relationship, apparently.)

Tadashi can’t pinpoint exactly when it is that he falls asleep, but he wakes up midway through the eighth episode of _Pokémon_ played since he started watching _,_ and he can only recall watching three. His account of what he _had_ watched isn’t entirely reliable, anyway, though, because he was only ever half paying attention, but he digresses.

He hardly even recalls _why_ he’s awake in the first place. While he doesn’t feel physically well, it’s certainly not enough to warrant waking him from his sleep. There are, to the best of Tadashi’s knowledge, zero extenuating circumstances which would require him to wake up.

So, he rolls onto his other side and pulls the top blanket snug around his body, as if that will somehow make him warmer.

His phone buzzes from its position on the bedside table just after he’s comfortable. Regrettably, he extends an arm from his cozy cocoon of cotton and other fabrics, blinking as the sudden light shines on his face. A simple text from an unknown number on the home screen reads: ‘I’m outside, do you mind coming and letting me in?’ Tadashi is absolutely certain it’s a wrong number, since the only two conceivable people who would come to visit (besides Hinata, who’s at a volleyball match) are Kenma and Kuroo, both of whom are currently at work.

Nonetheless, Tadashi makes the decision that some fresh air, no matter how little, will do him some good. He’s been cooped up in bed all day, sitting on a metaphorical throne of pillows and tissues, so a small change of scenery is very much welcome.

It’s just tough to get out of bed. His head throbs and the rest of his body aches, too, not to mention the twisted feeling in his stomach. But he’ll check the door, anyway, and probably get some fresh water from the kitchen.

With a blanket wrapped around him like a cape and dragging on the floor behind him, Tadashi trudges his way to the door. He sets his hand on the knob, yawning before he pulls the door open.

And there stands Tsukishima Kei, in all his glory. He’s holding two things, a bag in one hand and a travel coffee cup in the other. The clothes he’s wearing differ a little from the uniform apron Tadashi usually sees him in.

“Wh—” Tadashi freezes mid-word, holding the blanket tighter around him. Suddenly he’s aware of how his hair sticks up in every which way, and he doesn’t know what exactly to ask first. “Why did you come?”

“Can I come in?” Kei declines answering in favor of asking his own question.

“Um, yeah. It’s messy, but I—”

“That’s fine,” Kei assures, taking a step into the house. Tadashi leads him to the kitchen, where he can set the things he brought on the counter.

“How did you…” Tadashi trails, watching as Kei sits himself on one of Tadashi’s island stools.

“Kenma-san sent me,” he says, and Tadashi blinks at him. “with this stuff, for you.” Kei pushes them towards Tadashi, so he takes a seat in front of them and begins to open the bag.

“He did?” he asks in disbelief, “And he was just calling me a freeloader,” he mumbles, shaking his head. He’s grateful, nonetheless, as he opens the bag to reveal two cinnamon rolls from the bakery. He points the bag at Kei, who’s watching him intently. “Take one,” he says.

“They’re for you,” Kei replies, denying the offer.

Tadashi persists. “Take one. I can’t eat both.”

Reluctantly, Kei reaches into the bags and takes out one of the cinnamon rolls. Each cinnamon roll is individually packed, as well, so he also takes it out of that packaging. Some of the frosting sticks to his fingertips as he holds it.

“That’s a Chai tea latte,” Kei comments, nodding at the cup that sits before Tadashi. He takes a bite of the cinnamon roll, and just as some of the frosting had stuck to his fingers, some sticks to his lips. Tadashi averts his gaze, down to his drink.

“Thanks for bringing this,” he says, wrapping his hands around the latte. It’s odd that Kenma would have Kei bring him a hot drink, since he’s not very fond of them, but he supposes hot drinks are better while sick, anyway.

“It’s not a problem,” Kei replies, setting his cinnamon roll down on the packaging he’d taken it out of.

They sit quietly for a few moments, Tadashi taking a drink out of his cup, which has surely cooled off a tremendous amount since Kei picked it up at the cafe.

“I can’t help but wonder,” Tadashi speaks against the lip of the cup, and Kei looks at him expectantly. “Is this a business matter?”

Kei doesn’t respond, he just raises an eyebrow.

“I mean, you said you’d only text me if it was business,” he explains, taking another drink. The latte seems to warm him up from the inside out. “and you texted me just now.”

“Well, this _is_ business, since Kenma-san had me come.”

“Hm,” Tadashi hums, contemplative. “Okay.”

“That was a joke, though, you know,” Kei states, taking another bite from his cinnamon roll. Tadashi’s sits still in its packaging; as grateful as he is for it, he’s not sure his stomach can handle it just now.

Tadashi blinks, and his past day of worrying about this suddenly seems extremely foolish. “You really need to work on your sense of humor.”

Kei snorts. “Is that so?”

“You do,” Tadashi confirms. It’s only teasing on his part, but Kei’s joke from the day prior had his stomach in _knots._ (A lot of things have his stomach in knots, but that had been especially anxiety-provoking.)

Tadashi takes a sip from his drink, contemplating thanking Kei once more for visiting him. He certainly hadn’t been expecting company; he’d come to the door wrapped up in a blanket and the small apartment is far from spotless, but he appreciates the company nonetheless—there’s only so much binge watching _Pokémon_ one can take before even that gets dull.

The two sit in silence, though this silence is infinitely more pleasant than it’d be if he’d been alone. Nonetheless, he knows he should let Kei be on his way.

“You should go,” Tadashi says after a moment, still holding his cup up to his face. He sniffles.

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to get you sick,” Tadashi explains, his gaze cast downwards.

“Oh,” Kei breathes. “Yeah. I don’t want to get sick, either. I kind of feel like it’s inevitable, though.” He stands up from the stool anyway.

“Especially with you visiting like this. It’s like Kenma sacrificed you,” Tadashi comments with a smile, but Kei doesn’t really have a reaction.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll see you later, then.”

If Tadashi hadn’t glanced up at him just before he left, he would’ve missed the wicked smirk that painted Kei’s face.

“I hope you get over your allergies soon,” he says, and the door clicks behind him.

Tadashi groans and lets his head fall onto the counter in embarrassment.

* * *

 

The sickness lasts four days, but as soon as it’s just about gone, Kenma calls him into work again. It’s not surprising, because it’s a Friday and Kenma _definitely_ isn’t equipped to handle the amount of customer traffic they’re bound to receive.

Tadashi is actually happy to be heading into to work and resuming a somewhat more normal schedule; the day after Kei visited, Tadashi had placed a futon in the hallway outside of the bathroom out of convenience, so he hadn’t really managed any amount of comfortable sleep. Furthermore, he’d spent a large majority of his days feeling far too unwell to exert himself in any way, shape, or form.

But he feels better now, mostly, as he stands behind the counter at the cafe, taking order after order. (He’s not sure Kenma would even let him leave now if he felt sick again, anyway.)

Tadashi’s mind wanders as he makes a customer’s drink. He’s secretly hoping Kei will stop by, because they haven’t seen each other in a few days now. It’s pretty strange, he thinks, how quickly Kei had inserted himself into Tadashi’s life. But, to be fair, Tadashi hadn’t made it especially hard for him.

“Tadashi.” Kenma’s voice is sharp, and at the call of his name Tadashi realizes that the cup he’s filling is about to overflow.

“Oh!” Tadashi exclaims, pulling the cup out from under the spout. He smiles apologetically at the stranger, as he’d accidentally filled the cup with just milk. He dumps the milk out and grabs a new cup to start over.

He successfully concocts the drink this time around, offering another apology as he hands the cup over to the customer.

Tadashi doesn’t have long to dwell on the small blunder, resuming position behind the register where the ever-steady line is growing, much to his dismay. (Kei isn’t there, which isn’t surprising, but still slightly… disappointing.)

Things look up slightly when the line starts dwindling. A few people linger towards the walls of the cafe; two are in line and one is waiting for the drink in Kenma’s hand, but the pair of workers have things under control. Tadashi can’t help the thought that now would be an awfully convenient time for Kei to stop in.

He doesn’t, not even after all the customers are sated.

“Stop staring at the door,” Kenma commands. “It’s annoying.”

Tadashi jumps at the words, as he hadn’t known Kenma was behind him.

“Ah, Kenma,” he says after a moment. “We haven’t really had a chance to talk yet. Thanks for the food you had delivered to my apartment when I was sick.”

Kenma looks absolutely bemused. “…What?”

Tadashi reciprocates the look. “The food Kei brought…? He said it was from you.”

After letting out a deep sigh, Kenma shakes his head. “He lied. You’re pretty gullible, Tadashi.”

“Why would he lie?” Tadashi inquires in response, though it’s not like he doesn’t believe Kenma. He had thought it was weird that Kenma had sent something the moment Kei had said so.

Kenma shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, as if he’s calming himself down. “Think about it,” he finally answers, before stepping away into one of the back rooms.

Tadashi doesn’t really have time to think about it, since the bell above the door jingles not seconds later.

(He tells himself not to get his hopes up as he turns to look at who’s just entered, but he’s still disappointed when it’s not Kei.)

* * *

 

Tadashi spends his entire journey to work—walking to the train station, train ride, and walking to the cafe—thinking about how much he _doesn’t_ want to be going to work. (That’s a little bit exaggerated. His mind also wanders to Kei more than he’d care to admit, but it’s nothing. Really.)

He spends, just as well, the first hour and a half of his shift thinking about how badly he’d like to go back home and nap, which is decidedly not a viable option. Tadashi is alone today besides Koharu in the back office, and though the shop isn’t _busy_ , it has to remain open.

Between customers, Tadashi checks the whiteboard in the back where Koharu or Atsuo almost always jot down a quick note to let him or Kenma know important details of the day: tasks to be done, if either of them will be in the cafe that day, if they should be expecting any deliveries, etcetera.

To his immense disappointment, there’s no note of any expected deliveries, and since Koharu is in the back, Tadashi _knows_ the note is recent, but he still hopes.

Though hoping has never gotten him very far, this time’s different. Tadashi gapes when he walks back out into the main room and Kei stands behind the counter, a box set before him.

“Hey!” Tadashi greets, walking up to Kei. As he approaches, Kei slides the box over the counter to him.

“Croissants,” he says in lieu of a greeting.

Tadashi lifts the top of the box and peeks inside anyway. “I didn’t think we were getting any deliveries today?” He says this as a question because he expects Kei to answer.

“Oh,” he says. “They must’ve forgotten.”

“Must have,” Tadashi repeats back to him with a shrug. A smile creeps onto his face despite his attempts to remain sober. “You like your coffee black, right?”

“No,” Kei replies, and his face turns to a grimace. “Kuroo said that to spite me.”

Laughter bubbles out from Tadashi’s chest. “He would.” As an afterthought, he tacks on, “How _do_ you take it, then?”

Kei answers and after a quick moment, Tadashi sets about crafting a drink for Kei. He takes more care than he would on any other customer’s drink—even someone like Akiteru, who he knows very well—half because it means Kei has to stick around while he makes it and half because he _really_ wants him to enjoy it.

It’s not an exceptionally hard drink to make; Tadashi has certainly made hundreds of cappuccinos in the time he’s been employed here, so he decides to chat for the time being.

It strikes him that now is a good time to get revenge on Kei for embarrassing him about his “allergies.”

“Thanks again,” he begins nonchalantly, “for bringing that food when I was sick, even if it was Kenma’s idea.”

“Oh,” Kei says. “Yeah, no problem. I never did end up getting sick, anyway, so it's all fine.”

“And I was just wondering,” Tadashi continues, holding Kei’s cup under a hot milk pump. “why’d you pick cinnamon rolls?”

Kei hesitates. “Kenma-san picked them.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Tadashi’s gaze flickers up from where he’s working and to meet momentarily with Kei’s. “It’s strange that Kenma wouldn’t pick my favorite drink though, don’t you think? Because he definitely knows that it’s an iced caramel macchiato.”

Tadashi suppresses a grin when he notices how Kei squirms under his gaze. He turns around to top Kei’s drink off with steamed milk foam.

“Yeah, that’s strange,” he agrees to Tadashi’s back, but attempts reasoning. “Maybe he thought that would be better, given that you were sick and all.”

“Whatever the reason is,” Tadashi says with a shrug, “I really do appreciate the effort _you_ put in to pick something out for me and bring it to my apartment.”

Kei’s face is red when Tadashi finally turns around and hands him his drink.

“Now drink up and get back to work,” Tadashi shoos him away with a smile, “and thanks for the delivery!”

* * *

 

“Why do we have so many croissants,” Kenma deadpans as he’s stocking the display case by the register.

Tadashi attempts an explanation but is stopped: “Oh, Kei brought them and—”

“Explain no further,” Kenma sighs, placing another of their abundant croissants into the case.

* * *

 

There’s a bright red hiring sign in the front window the following Sunday, and it’s the first thing that Tadashi notices when he gets to work that morning.

His immediate reaction is to break out into a cold sweat. Even though there had been nothing leading up to Tadashi being fired, it’s the first possibility to jump into his head. He rampantly tries to think of all the things he’s done wrong lately, things that could warrant Kenma’s parents letting him go, but all he can muster is forgetting to wipe down the counter his shift prior and, thinking back, wasting that milk when he’s spaced out thinking of Kei. (But unless Kenma had told anyone, no one but him and the customer would know.)

Surely, though, if he were being fired, the Kozumes would have been nice enough to give him a notice. And so, he takes a deep breath and stands up a little straighter as he walks into the cafe.

Just as he’s about convinced himself that he’s _not_ getting fired, Tadashi sees Kozume Atsuo standing just behind the counter. Which—doesn’t happen.

 _Okay_ , Tadashi tells himself. Before Atsuo even begins to speak, Tadashi has thought of approximately three backup plans. (One, he could apply for a job at the bakery. Kei would like to have him there, right? Two, the veterinary clinic down the street is always looking for dog walkers. And three, his mom had offered him an internship a while ago, so the offer might still stand.)

“Oh, Yamaguchi-kun,” Atsuo greets with a smile, though he raises an eyebrow as he probably notices the pained expression painting Tadashi’s face. “You saw the sign?”

Tadashi nods stiffly.

“There’s no need to worry,” he says with a laugh. “We just figured that you and Kenma could use a little extra help.”

Tadashi’s shoulders slump in relief; there’s no need to employ any of the backup plans. While any of the three would have worked out fine, probably, Tadashi isn’t totally inclined towards them. The bakery is undoubtedly the most appealing of the three, but if Tadashi were to spend _that much_ time around Kei, it would effectively guarantee frequent embarrassment (and, while Tadashi knows he _shouldn’t_ think this, he can’t help but worry that too much time spent with Kei would lead to the other getting tired of him).

“Oh,” Tadashi breathes, as if he hadn’t just packed a year’s worth of worry into two minutes. “Okay.”

Atsuo nods at him and then directs his attention back to what he’d been doing prior, which was something with the register.

Tadashi makes his way to the break room, where he finds Kenma.

“I had a _heart attack_ just now,” Tadashi informs his friend, quick to tie the red apron around his waist.

Kenma raises an eyebrow at him not quite expectantly—he won’t directly ask the cause of Tadashi’s so-called heart attack, but he definitely expects to hear about it.

“The hiring sign,” Tadashi elaborates. He isn’t sure if Kenma actually sighs or if he’s just imagining it.

“The hiring sign,” Kenma mirrors, “for… _weekend help_.” He quotes the fine text on the sign that Tadashi had apparently neglected reading.

Tadashi waves one arm as if brushing his friend off. “I didn’t _know_.”

Kenma shakes his head, remarkably unsympathetic towards Tadashi’s short-lived anxiety. Rather than dwell for too long, he heads back out where Atsuo is standing as he fastens on his nametag. The shop is meant to open soon, anyway, so it won’t hurt to be out front.

Atsuo nearly jumps when Tadashi greets him again from behind, having been so enthralled in his work.

“Is the register broken?” Tadashi finds himself asking after he raises a hand in apology, peering over Atsuo’s shoulder and at the machine in question.

“Ah, yeah. Something’s a little jammed, but…” Atsuo yanks on something inside the register and it makes a popping sound, which is apparently what it’s supposed to do, since he turns back and grins at Tadashi. “There we go.”

Tadashi expects Atsuo to retreat to the back office since he’s finished the task, but he stays a moment longer.

“I’m interviewing some people today, so when they come in, could you direct them back towards my office?”

“I will,” Tadashi agrees, reaching for a plastic cup of his own.

He’s just gotten situated—made coffee for himself, Kenma, and Atsuo, made certain that the pastries were stocked neatly, and wiped off the counters—by the time they’re meant to open.

Customers come and leave at a relaxed pace; Tadashi doesn’t even especially need Kenma’s assistance until a couple hours into his shift.

The first person to come in asking about an interview is a short brunette woman with shifty eyes. Tadashi mostly tries not to judge based on appearance, but he really can’t help it. (He hopes she’s not hired. And when she emerges from the back office flustered and quick to exit the building, Tadashi can assume she won’t be.)

The customers begin to blend together when they reach the afternoon, and maybe it’s a good thing that the Kozumes are hiring extra help, because Tadashi and Kenma’s four hands together cannot satisfy the thirteen person line quickly enough.

“Hello!” Tadashi greets the next in line, a smile plastered on his face. He can feel a bead of sweat rolling down the back of his neck, and he resists wiping at it. “How may I help you?”

“Yamaguchi?” they ask back rather than answering, and Tadashi blinks at them.

“Yes?” he responds, bemused. (He does not recognize this person, and he hopes he’s not supposed to.)

“Hm,” they hum, and Tadashi squirms under their gaze. “I’m here for an interview.”

“Oh!” Tadashi exclaims. “Come with me,” he instructs, leading the person back to Atsuo’s office.

After he’s dropped them off with Atsuo, he returns to the register, to the next customer. Once he’s taken the customer’s order, he begins to work at a machine alongside Kenma.

Kenma looks at him as if he’s not sure he should say something, so Tadashi raises an eyebrow at him. He’s adding caramel topping to the drink when Kenma says: “That was Akaashi Keiji—the one who’s getting interviewed.”

Tadashi stares. “…Who? Am I supposed to know that name?” He sets the drink on top of the counter and pushes it to the customer with a smile.

“I thought Kei would have mentioned them,” Kenma says with a shrug. “They’re practically his only friend. Besides you.”

The last part Kenma has tacked on makes Tadashi’s heart flutter, but he ignores so. Mostly because he has to get the next customer’s order.

Tadashi calls the order out to Kenma, and then continues their conversation from moments earlier, “His only friend?”

“Well, yeah. You know Kei. He’s… kind of hard to get along with.”

Tadashi cocks his head, but the conversation is paused again as he takes the next order.

“I don’t think it’s difficult to get along with him,” Tadashi says as he grabs another cup and puts it underneath a spout, pressing his hand down on the pump.

“Of course you don’t.” Kenma sighs, as if Tadashi’s statement has taken five years off of his life.

“And he has Kuroo too?” Tadashi says more as a question, transferring the cup under another spout.

“Kei doesn’t consider Kuroo a friend.”

Kenma slides the drink he’s been working on over the counter and forces a smile at the customer that almost looks painful.

They’re shortening the line, bit by bit.

“Oh, right,” Tadashi responds, swirling the drink around in the cup to mix it. “I forgot that he thinks of Kuroo as family.”

Kenma almost looks like he wants to laugh. “I think he’d rather not think of Kuroo at all.”

Tadashi shrugs. The two of them, Kuroo and Kei, have temperaments that don’t exactly compliment each other. While they _work_ together, that’s about where the line is drawn—by Kei, anyway. Kuroo likes to test his limits.

“So, do you think your parents will hire Akaashi-san, then?” Tadashi inquires as he concocts yet another drink. The line is dwindling now, at least.

“Maybe.” Kenma shrugs.

“Hm,” Tadashi hums in response, and they proceed to work quietly, not bothering to hold a conversation with rampant interruptions.

* * *

 

Kenma and Kuroo’s shared home is fairly large, especially in comparison to Tadashi’s three-room apartment, so he likes spending time there. Kenma only really invites him on rare occasions, though, like when Kuroo has plans with some of his college friends and Kenma’s alone for the night.

That doesn’t seem to be the case today, however, because Kuroo’s shoes are by the door (where he had undoubtedly kicked them off after work), and his favorite jacket is still on the back of the couch. Kenma walks past the items without a second glance, so Tadashi makes nothing of it.

“He’s always leaving his shoes there,” Kenma says (as if it annoys him, as if Tadashi can’t see twelve of Kenma’s own socks lying sprawled across the living room this very moment) once the two are sitting on the couch. “So, what do you want to play?” he asks before Tadashi has a chance to call him out, which he was very much planning to do.

Tadashi hums in contemplation, pressing his index finger to his temple. “… _Mario Kart_?”

Now, Tadashi _knows_ that Kenma is better at this game than him, and he _knows_ that Kenma wins every single time they play, but that doesn’t stop him from insisting on several rematches in a row.

Kenma sighs, probably because he knows as well as Tadashi does how this is going to end, but stands and retrieves the game disk nonetheless.

“I’ll win this time,” Tadashi promises as he scrolls through the characters. He settles on Yoshi after a quick moment of thought, leaning back into the couch.

“Wouldn’t bet money on it,” Kenma says, selecting Princess Peach. He turns for a moment and asks, “would _you_ bet money on it?”

Tadashi would, in fact, not bet money on that, but he doesn’t say so.

And when Kenma emerges victorious after the first round, Tadashi insists that “that was just a warm-up round,” until Kenma gives in and starts another round.

It’s the third round before Tadashi even gets close to taking first. He’s progressively getting louder; vulgarities are thrown at computer players that throw shells at him. (Kenma doesn’t throw shells at him, because Kenma’s consistently in first.)

Tadashi jumps when someone behind him puts their hands on his shoulders.

“Tadashi,” Kuroo says, and Tadashi’s bike goes off the road. “This is an intervention. You’re not going to win, and it’s getting out of hand.”

Tadashi pouts, tossing his controller onto the couch next to him. Yoshi pitifully continues driving into a wall, and one by one, the computer players pass him up. “Maybe I would’ve won, if you didn’t stop me.”

Kenma lets out a slightly amused snort and promptly passes the finish line, claiming his twelfth consecutive first place. Tadashi doesn’t even finish the race, as all the computers reach the finish before he even attempts to pick his controller up again.

“ _Evil_ , Kuroo.” Tadashi is still pouting. “You sabotaged me.”

“I did nothing of the sorts,” Kuroo responds, jumping over the back of the couch to sit on it. Kenma glares at him.

“You could just walk around the couch,” Kenma suggests, “like any normal person would do.”

Kuroo shrugs in response, grinning as he rests one arm around Kenma’s shoulder. “Where’s the fun in that, though?”

“You’re exhausting, Kuro. That’s what you are,” Kenma says, though there’s no real animosity behind his words.

Kuroo opens his mouth, presumably to defend himself. He doesn’t get past more than “I—” before the doorbell sounds, alerting the three of them (plus the cat, Misaki, because Kuroo especially is insistent that she’s just as much a part of the family as the actual _people_ who reside in the house) to the presence of a guest.

Kuroo and Kenma immediately throw each other glances that apparently they don’t think Tadashi will notice.

“Who’s that?” Tadashi asks, looking towards the front door.

“Hm,” Kenma responds, feigning curiosity. “I wonder.”

Tadashi blinks at him. They wouldn’t have—

“Well, I’ll go see,” Kuroo states, heaving himself up off of the couch and padding to the door.

Tadashi hears Kuroo say “ _Back_ , Misaki,” and the cat’s indignant meow as he picks her up, before the door opens with a creak.

“Oh, it’s Kei,” Kenma states, as if he didn’t know Kei was coming. “What a coincidence.”

And Tadashi can’t say he’s surprised. Kenma inviting him over had been mostly out of the blue, and Kuroo was home, which was also unusual. Tadashi assumes that the entire thing was thought up by Kuroo, because it just strikes him as something Kuroo would do for fun.

Tadashi watches as Kei kicks off his shoes by the door, but Kei hasn’t seen him yet. He wonders momentarily if Kei was also in on this, or if they’d both been tricked.

For some reason, Tadashi slides down the couch and ducks out of view as Kei approaches the living room, and though Kenma gives him an odd look, he doesn’t blow his cover.

Kei stops a few feet from the back of the couch, throwing a pointed glance between the television and Kuroo.

“So, this TV that’s obviously working is what I’m supposed to help you fix?”

Tadashi’s prior question is answered; Kei had been tricked as well. Tadashi sits up.

“That’s it,” Kuroo answers, though it seems that Kei’s focus has shifted slightly, as it’s now on Tadashi, who is _not_ blushing and definitely _does not_ care one bit that Kei is paying them a visit.

Kei blinks once, twice at Tadashi before he puts the pieces together.

“Oh. Hi, Yamaguchi,” he greets, casting one last glance at the TV. Princess Peach stands victoriously at the top of the podium, and the repetitive music still plays in the background.

Because the world, as much as he wishes it would, chooses _not_ to swallow Tadashi whole, he has to acknowledge Kei’s presence in the room.

“I didn’t know you would be here,” Tadashi says, to clear his record before Kei thinks that he was in on this.

Kei nods, presumably because he understands _exactly_ what the intention here was. “I had guessed that much,” he admits, casting one more glare in Kuroo’s direction.

“So mean, _Tsukki_ ,” Kuroo reprimands, still holding the cat in his arms. She meows, annoyed. “You shouldn’t be looking at Misaki like that. She’s a _beautiful blossom_ ,” he says, referencing the meaning of her name. (Tadashi has never asked, but he’s sure Kuroo was the one behind the name choice.)

Kei clarifies, “It’s not directed at your cat.”

Tadashi muffles a snicker behind his hands at Kuroo’s melodramatic expression. This offended expression quickly morphs into something much different, though, and Kuroo speaks again.

“What, you’re saying you _don’t_ want to spend time with our lovely Tadashi?”

Kei blanches, but quickly regains his composure. “That’s not—it. I just don’t like being lied to.”

Tadashi blushes a deep pink, and the hands that before muffled his snicker now hide his blush from the other people in the room.

“Okay, okay,” Kuroo waves a hand flippantly, “I’ll let you off the hook this time.”

“You didn’t have to trick us,” Tadashi says from behind his hands.

“Yes, we did,” Kenma replies.

“Or we’d have never gotten you here together,” Kuroo finishes Kenma’s thought.

Tadashi looks back and forth between Kuroo and Kenma for a moment, until he gaze flickers up to Kei, who’s already looking back at him. They hold eye-contact for a few fleeting moments, and Tadashi imagines that if they had telekinesis, Kei would be saying “ _Look what we’ve gotten ourselves into_.”

And, well, Tadashi sees no harm in trying it; “ _How do we get out?_ ” he thinks in Kei’s direction, but he receives no response.

Tadashi sighs, shoulders slumping, and directs his gaze away from Kei after a moment. It’s silent, save for an impatient meow on Misaki’s behalf.

The expression she’s giving Kuroo—Tadashi deems it disdain—is almost identical to the looks Tadashi has seen Kei give Kuroo in the past, too, and Tadashi stifles a laugh at the thought of Kei and Misaki trading stories about the stress Kuroo has imparted on them. ( _Never mind that the cat can’t talk,_ Tadashi thinks, _but if she could_.)

After he’s gotten over the comical thought, Kuroo’s just set Misaki down and Kei has taken a seat on a chair beside the couch.

“I don’t know if I’m missing something,” Tadashi prefaces, and Kenma’s gaze snaps to him. He looks like he’s trying _very_ hard not to throttle Tadashi right then and there. “but why’s it so important that we’re here together?”

There’s a collective sigh.

“Tada-chan, you never learn,” Kuroo says, almost wistfully. “ _Ah_ , to be young and dumb again.”

Now, Kenma looks like he wants to throttle Kuroo, instead. “They’re _two_ years younger than you,” he points out, letting his eyes close and exhaling deeply.

Sometimes, Tadashi feels bad for Kenma; he seems to carry the weight of all the idiocracy in the world on him.

Kei’s been quiet all the while, and when Tadashi looks over, he’s actually scrolling on his phone. While Kenma and Kuroo bicker, Tadashi decides that striking up conversation with Kei isn’t an awful course of action.

“I met Akaashi-san the other day,” he says, and at the words Kei looks up from his phone.

“They mentioned that,” Kei replies, and Tadashi’s not sure if he imagines Kei’s slight flush or not.

“Oh,” Tadashi says. “Kind of weird that they’d end up at the cafe, don’t you think?”

“No,” Kei answers, clicking his phone off and setting it in his lap. “I told them that the Kozumes were hiring.”

“Oh,” Tadashi says again. (He’s suddenly aware that both Kuroo and Kenma are watching them, but trying to be nonchalant about it. They’re failing, obviously.)

Tadashi is tempted to call them out for the obvious staring. Kuroo is especially guilty of this, but Kenma isn’t exempt, either

Instead, he subtly nods back towards them, just to make sure Kei knows they’re listening in. Any chance for natural conversation is out the window.

For all of the conversations Tadashi and Kei have ever had, this has got to be in the top ten most uncomfortable. (It doesn’t quite surpass when Tadashi spilled on himself, but he really hopes that’s impossible to beat.)

It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy Kei’s company. It _definitely_ isn’t that, because if they were alone, Tadashi doesn’t doubt that he’d be having a significantly better time. He definitely wants to spend more time around Kei—more time than _just_ for work-related matters, but with their two friends looking on and listening in to their conversation, Tadashi’s not really sure that this counts. It certainly doesn’t feel like it counts, anyway.

And Tadashi does appreciate the effort that they’ve put into getting the two together, especially from Kenma, who would definitely rather have alone time with his boyfriend; he _really does_. He’s just going to have to make absolutely certain that they never pull this (or anything similar) ever again.  


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for supporting this fic with reading, kudos, and your kind words!  
> we really hope that you'll enjoy the conclusion <3 <3

Yamaguchi Tadashi is an idiot. Really. He realizes this at ten past noon, about fifteen minutes since Kei’s shown up with a pretty pink box of cupcakes. Kei’s still here, though, despite Kenma telling him that he’s overstaying his welcome and that he really should be heading back to _work_ , where he’s supposed to be.

Tadashi has several responsibilities as well, none of which include being utterly distracted by the baker’s son, and yet, he still finds exactly that happening. The aforementioned responsibilities seem to be escaping him, anyway.

Luckily, Kenma is there to remind him exactly what he’s supposed to be doing. “Tadashi,” he finally sighs, giving a pointed look in his direction. Tadashi follows that same gaze slightly left, where Akaashi leans against the counter.

_Right_. Akaashi, who Tadashi is presently supposed to be training, is at the top of Tadashi’s list of forgotten responsibilities. But Akaashi doesn’t seem to mind. They’re an exceptionally fast learner, and thus far there’s only been one customer in the shop at a time. So, they’re handling it just fine.

“I should—” Tadashi tries, trying not to let his disappointment be too evident. “I should get back to them, I guess.”

Before Kei has a chance to reply, the bell above the door jingles. Everyone’s eyes flicker over, only to see Kuroo standing there with three stacked pink boxes sitting in his arms and a smug grin painting his face.

“And the knight in shining armor appears,” Kuroo exclaims as he walks in, “with the _real_ delivery!”

Kei might actually be glaring lasers into Kuroo. Kuroo pays no mind, though; he sets the three boxes down with a sigh and dusts off the front of his shirt.

“Real…?” Akaashi starts, looking between the one box Kei had brought and the three from Kuroo.

Kenma shrugs. “We had actually ordered scones to come in today, not cupcakes.” He pauses for a moment, redirecting his gaze to Kei. “But I wasn’t going to tell on you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kuroo responds, “I’ll take any chance I can get to bust Tsukki.”

Tadashi looks back and forth between everyone as they speak, but then his gaze sticks on the cupcakes Kei had brought. “Why’d you bring these, then?” he inquires, and suddenly, everyone’s staring at him. Kei just blinks.

“ _Tadashi_ ,” Kenma stresses, and it sounds painful.

Tadashi averts his gaze to a scuff on the floor, finding himself the subject of immense scrutiny.

“It’s…” he trails, locking eyes with Kei. “Is it to flirt with me? Are you _flirting_ with me?”

There’s a collective sigh of—relief? Tadashi’s not sure until Kuroo mumbles “Finally,” under his breath. Kei opens his mouth to respond to Tadashi’s question, but he closes it again before anything comes out. Akaashi’s trying to hide their snickering behind their hands.

“Why don’t you two go to the break room,” Kenma suggests, nodding back towards the door. Kei’s cheeks are quickly turning to a pretty shade of pink.

“I think that’s best,” Kei is swift to agree, and Tadashi _definitely_ feels the same. And while the break room is nothing special, it’s really _not_ , Tadashi can’t think of a better place for them to go.

When the door’s safely clicked shut behind them, Tadashi takes particular interest in an old stain on the floor instead of looking at Kei. It doesn’t last long, though, before he has to look up and face him.

“Yamaguchi,” Kei starts, and Tadashi isn’t sure how to interpret the expression on his face. “You _seriously_ didn’t know I was flirting with you?”

“I—” Tadashi begins to defend himself, but no other words come to mind.

Kei kind of laughs, then, but it’s short and sharp. He’s embarrassed.

Tadashi tries again. “I knew,” he says, pursing his lips for a moment as he thinks of how to elaborate. “But I also haven’t known you long enough to know that you’re not just… _like_ that. By nature. Or something.”

“I don’t go out of my way to talk to anyone but you,” Kei admits with a straight face, and Tadashi marvels at his composure before the meaning of the words actually kicks in. He feels his neck and face heat up immediately. “So, now you know,” Kei states plainly.

“Now I know,” Tadashi reflects back, almost wishing a giant chasm would open up under him and swallow him whole, but not quite. “I’m an idiot,” he tacks onto the end.

Kei hesitates. “Kind of.”

Tadashi pouts. “You’re not supposed to _agree_ with me!”

“You spilled coffee on your shoes the first time I met you,” Kei points out with a seemingly innocent cock of his head.

“I’m well aware,” Tadashi groans. “You _really_ don’t have to remind me.”

Kei covers his face under the guise of adjusting his glasses, but not before Tadashi notices his slight smirk. He’s glad, _so_ glad to have noticed that expression. While it’s not one Kei wears often, it’s easily one of Tadashi’s favorites. (Kei does this almost exclusively when teasing Tadashi, as he’s noticed. He really is observant, he swears!)

“So,” Tadashi begins, hooking his fingers together behind his back. “Where does that leave us?”

Kei swallows thickly, and his composure from before breaks entirely, allowing a pink blush to settle over his cheeks. “I was thinking boyfriends.”

It’s close, it’s _really_ close, but Tadashi’s heart doesn’t quite jump straight out of his chest and start beating on the table in front of them. “Okay,” he says, smile threatening his lips. “Boyfriends it is, then.”

* * *

 

Tadashi has himself convinced that Kei _must_ be able to sense his thoughts, because there is absolutely no way that his timing is coincidental.

The cafe is quiet. Two teenagers sit in the window seat, drinking coffees that have long since gone cold, Tadashi has no doubt. He’s really hoping they’ll leave soon, because his boyfriend ( _boyfriend_! Tadashi doesn’t think he could ever tire of calling Kei that) has chosen a perfect moment to show up, if it weren’t for the customers.

Kei’s timing is so perfect because Kenma’s just left a few minutes ago. The day was going exceptionally slow, so when Kenma mentioned that it was Kuroo’s day off, Tadashi took the hint and told Kenma to go home, that he’d handle the rest of the shift alone. Kenma didn’t hesitate to take off his apron and head out the door, so Tadashi makes a mental note to bring this back up later when Kuroo’s around, just to tease Kenma.

And now’s the first time Tadashi and Kei are seeing each other since they officially got together, so as Kei walks through the door, Tadashi can’t help the bright smile that spreads across his face.

“Hello!” he chirps, watching as Kei approaches and sets some boxes down on the counter.

“That’s a real delivery, today,” Kei says in lieu of a greeting, sliding the boxes closer to Tadashi.

“Good to know,” Tadashi responds, patting the top of the boxes. It dawns on him that things from here on should be much smoother sailing, now that Kei doesn’t have to deliver fake orders and now that both of their feelings have come to light and they’re dating—they’re _dating_!

“Looks like you’re having a busy day,” Kei observes dully, sweeping across the cafe with his eyes.

“Super busy,” Tadashi confirms, one eyebrow raised. “So busy that I’m the only one here.”

“Oh?” Kei swaps out the bored expression for a moderately more interested one, leaning slightly closer to Tadashi.

Rather than entertain Kei’s little game, Tadashi begins to unpack the contents of said boxes into the clear display cases. He wonders, as Kei shifts weight from one foot to the other, if he’s going to stick around, and when the blond makes no move towards the door, Tadashi’s heart leaps out of the confines of his chest.

But then he remembers the coffees. “Who’s in today?” Tadashi asks as he stands up straight again, and Kei blinks as though he’s forgotten about that.

“Oh,” he says. “Nii—Akiteru and Shiryu.”

Tadashi nods, starting on Akiteru’s. He’ll make Kei’s drink last.

After he’s made Akiteru’s coffee, he slips a cardboard sleeve onto the cup and uncaps a marker with his mouth, writing the recipient’s name on the cup. Shiryu takes his coffee black, so his cup is up and ready on the counter soon thereafter. Kei puts it into the second slot of the four-slotted travel carrier that Tadashi had given him prior.

Kei’s watching Tadashi intently as he makes Kei’s cappuccino; Tadashi can practically feel his gaze settled on the back of Tadashi’s neck as he tops the drink off with foam.

He uncaps the marker for the third time, writing Kei’s name on the cup as neatly as he can manage and adorning it with a heart. He sets the drink on the counter between them and turns it so the writing faces outward, and then he pushes it towards Kei. As he pushes it forward, Kei leans the other way, towards Tadashi.

Tadashi panics for a moment, freezing in place.

Kei kisses him quickly and softly, as if testing the waters. Tadashi doesn’t resist—rather, he seems to sink into the touch—so Kei leans slightly forward a second time and kisses him for a few seconds longer this time. Tadashi freezes again the moment he pulls away, the smacking sound of their lips pulling apart reverberating in his ears. (He doesn’t quite have it in him to worry about it at the moment, but in hindsight he hopes the customers didn’t hear.)

“Thanks for the coffees.” Kei smiles, and Tadashi thinks his soul might have left his mortal body and ascended to an astral plane. If the kisses hadn’t been enough (they had), the smile surely seals the deal.

And Kei is _gone_ , just like that. In his wake, he leaves the resounding chime of the bell above the door and he leaves Tadashi, who’s still standing at the counter with an open mouth.

He stands there for feels like forever (it’s only about thirty seconds) until an impatient customer clears their throat, grabbing his attention. Somehow, Tadashi can’t find it within himself to apologize.

* * *

 

Apparently it had slipped Tadashi’s mind to tell Hinata of the recent developments between himself and Kei. Perhaps it’d been a subconscious defense mechanism, because when Hinata _does_ call and ask him about it while Tadashi’s in the middle of making his dinner, he does so at a decibel that Tadashi can’t be certain is safe for the human ear.

Tadashi still grins at Hinata’s giddiness, besides the fact that he’s still holding the phone a very reasonable six inches from his face. (He can clearly make out every word his friend says, even at the distance, which is slightly worrisome.)

“He kissed you?” Hinata exclaims, “Tsukki _kissed you_? Blond, scowling, _mean_ Tsukki?”

Tadashi feels a strange sense of pride at Hinata’s words; he’s actually very glad that he’s never perceived Kei to be this stoic asshole that everyone else thinks him to be. He figures that most people just don’t understand Kei’s signs of affection—surely it’d taken Tadashi long enough to decipher them, as apparently obvious as they had been.

“Yeah,” he finally breathes, turning a dial on the stove to begin boiling water in a pot. “ _Twice_.”

“So then it definitely wasn’t an accident!”

Tadashi blinks as he thinks about what Hinata’s just said, but he can’t really find a way to connect the pieces. “…What?”

“Oh,” Hinata says, pausing. “Nothing! Anyway, what happened after that?”

Tadashi shrugs, even though Hinata can’t see him. “He left.”

“He… _left_?” Hinata repeats back.

“Well, yeah. He had to go back to work.” Tadashi stops, but only for a second, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Not that you’d know anything about that, _work_.”

Tadashi can practically see Hinata’s pout on the other side of the line. “I applied for a job, actually! So, be proud of me.”

“Oh?” Tadashi prompts him to continue while moving to hold his phone between his shoulder and cheek, so that he can more easily pour noodles into the boiling water in the pot.

“Yeah, at the gym.”

“Hm,” Tadashi hums, turning to grab a wooden spoon from a drawer besides the sink. “That makes sense.”

Hinata clicks his tongue before he speaks again, “But it’s been awhile and they haven’t called me, so I guess I didn’t get it.”

Suddenly, Tadashi thinks he knows exactly why Hinata never got a call back. “Please tell me that you didn’t say you could ‘jump really high’ during your interview.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Tadashi sighs into the receiver, but makes no move to answer Hinata’s question. Hinata doesn’t dwell on it, though, as before long he’s moved on to another topic.

“So,” he starts, nonchalant, “ _You_ have a boyfriend, and _I_ have a boyfriend, so we should all do something together.”

“I’m not participating in a foursome,” Tadashi deadpans, stirring his noodles around in the pot.

“A _date_ , Tadashi! A double date!” Hinata clarifies quickly, “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I’m not participating in a double date, either,” Tadashi says with the same inflection. “The possibility for both of them is roughly the same, at…” he pauses to think, “twenty-five percent.”

“…Twenty-five,” Hinata intones. “That’s a pretty high number, Tadashi.”

“The point still stands,” Tadashi says anyway, still holding his phone in the crook of his neck as he tests one of the noodles off of the spoon. “Kei’s is probably around negative twenty-five, so they cancel out, anyway.”

“I wasn’t even _offering—_ ” Hinata cuts off with a sigh.

“‘We should all do something together,’” Tadashi quotes, pitching his voice slightly higher. “If that’s not an offer…”

Hinata groans, exasperated. “You know what? Forget it. I wouldn’t even want to go on a double date with you.”

“Say what you will,” Tadashi laughs, because he knows Hinata doesn’t mean it.

(But he still won’t go on that date.)

* * *

 

Tadashi could say that the reason he’s so unsuccessful in his baking endeavors is because Kei hoards all the talent, but that wouldn’t account for the monstrosities he’d created _before_ meeting Kei—and talent doesn’t work like that, evidently, but it doesn’t hurt to pretend.

So, when Kei proposes Tadashi come by the bakery after closing up shop, Tadashi feels himself a little more than slightly nervous.

“I really can’t bake,” he insists over the phone.

Kei sighs. “That’s why I’m going to help you.”

Tadashi doesn’t listen. “Like, I really can’t. _Really,_ really.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself. It’s not rocket science.” Tadashi isn’t sure if he imagines the slight lightness in Kei’s tone, like he’s hinting at laughter.

“That’s easy for you to say! You’ve been baking since you were—” He cuts off when he realizes he doesn’t _know_ when Kei started baking.

“Eight,” Kei supplies.

“Since you were _eight_.” Tadashi stresses this newfound information. “That’s like, more than a _decade_ lead on me.”

“That’s why I’m going to help you,” Kei repeats.

“I hope you’re not expecting much of me,” Tadashi relents. “Like, expect _nothing_ , and then lower your expectations some.”

“So, I’ll see you after you close?” (Kei’s voice doesn’t take on a hopeful tone. It _doesn’t_.)

Tadashi confirms, “After closing, yeah. I—Okay.”

* * *

 

After completing every conceivable task in the closing ritual, Tadashi takes the short walk down to the bakery. He very nearly walks past without the fluorescent lights powered on, but he catches himself and steps inside moments later.

It’s just as it had been last time Tadashi stopped by—pictures of the Tsukishima boys adorning the walls, wet floor sign propped up in the corner, and cases neatly displaying the confections.

What’s new, though, is Tadashi’s boyfriend emerging from the kitchen’s silver swinging doors. That’s a _very_ welcome change.

Kei wipes his hands on the front of his pink apron, which leave white flour streaks in their wake.

“Do I get one of those?” Tadashi asks instead of a greeting, and Kei stares at him for a moment.

“Sure,” he answers, beckoning Tadashi closer to him. “You can borrow my mom’s. I’d say Akiteru’s, but it’s filthy.”

Kei leads Tadashi into the kitchen, where, before this, he’s never been. Practically everything in the room is silver, so if Tadashi were given one word to describe it, he’d say “shiney.” It’s pleasant, though. There’s a rack of aprons just by the entrance, and Kei slides the third one in the row off of its hook.

“Here,” Kei says, holding the apron out towards Tadashi by the collar. Tadashi reaches forward to grab the apron, but Kei pulls it back before he can. “Let me,” he requests as an explanation.

“Oh,” Tadashi says, blinking up at Kei. “Okay.”

At the permission, Kei holds the apron out again and slides the collar over Tadashi’s head. Tadashi smiles at him after he’s done so, and he begins to grasp for the strings on the back to tie them together. Kei stops him with a low hum, reaching around his sides to tie the strings together for him.

“Tight enough?” he inquires, stepping away from a very flustered Tadashi.

Tadashi would ideally like to respond with _words_ in this situation, but since those seem to be escaping him at the current moment, a quick nod has to suffice.

Kei doesn’t comment on the pink flush settling along Tadashi’s cheekbones, and Tadashi really appreciates that.

“We’re going to make cupcakes,” Kei states plainly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his weight against a nearby refrigerator. “They’re not hard, so you’ll do fine.”

Tadashi nods as if contemplating this. “Is that why you chose them?” he asks, elaborating: “Because they’re easy?” The second possibility he mentions is probably wishful thinking, because it’s doubtful that Kei’s favorite would be something as cute as _cupcakes_ , but he finds himself asking anyway: “…Because they’re your favorite?”

“No,” Kei says with a shrug, and Tadashi’s shoulders slump slightly. “My mom told me to make these.” He only hesitates a moment before adding, “My favorite’s actually strawberry shortcake.”

Tadashi can’t keep his jaw from dropping. Somehow, that’s even _cuter_ than if his favorite had been cupcakes.

“ _Kei_ ,” Tadashi groans, “You’re really going to have to stop being so cute. It’s killing me.”

And even if Kei had ignored Tadashi’s blush earlier, Tadashi can’t help but comment on the light pink that now dusts Kei’s cheeks. “So cute…”

It doesn’t take long before Kei clears his throat and responds, “Not very many people have ever called me ‘cute.’”

“Hm,” Tadashi hums, “They’re missing out.”

Kei attempts a scoff, but Tadashi thinks it’s probably too cute to be categorized as a scoff.

“Anyway,” Kei eventually picks the topic back up from where they’d dropped it, “Cupcakes.”

“Right.”

“We’re making red velvet, so it should be pretty easy,” Kei says.

Tadashi thinks that Kei must _really_ be overestimating him, but having Kei around should make the whole process go more smoothly. Hopefully, anyway.

“I’ve never done that before.” Tadashi, if he had to guess, would say that he’s made a grand total of about _one_ successful cupcake in his entire life, if that.

“Guess there’s a first time for everything, then,” Kei replies with a light smile. “And besides, it’s not like you’re making them alone. So it’ll be fine.”

“I hope so, Kei,” Tadashi says with a slight frown. “I really do.”

To Tadashi’s relief, Kei has premeasured out the ingredients, which sit atop one of the silver counters in numerous glass bowls. This task, baking, somehow feels less intimidating with his boyfriend beside him.

“I think the last time I tried to make cupcakes, I was twelve,” Tadashi tells him. “They were—confetti? I think they were confetti.”

Kei sticks out his tongue. “Bleh,” he says.

Tadashi snorts. “They were for my mom!” After a quick moment, his expression shifts into a pout. “They didn’t work out, though, so my dad took me to a bakery in town and we pretended that I made them after all.”

“I bet your mom knew,” Kei responds, and Tadashi’s pout deepens.

He doesn’t disagree, though.

“You can handle this part,” Kei tells him. There’s a playful lilt to his voice as he hands over a glass bowl. “All you need to do is mix the dry ingredients, so that’s pretty hard to mess up.”

“I can handle that,” Tadashi agrees, following Kei’s instructions. Kei’s right in that it _would_ be pretty difficult to do this part wrong, at least in a major way.

There’s a slight incident where he gets a bit excited in his mixing endeavors and causes flour to spill over the edge of the bowl, but he quickly sweeps it back in to the best of his ability. Kei, luckily for Tadashi, isn’t looking at the time, as he’s turned around, setting the oven to preheat.

Tadashi tries his best not to look guilty when Kei turns back around, but he’s certain that he’s failed when Kei raises an eyebrow at him.

“You look guilty,” Kei deadpans.

Tadashi lies, “I’m not. Anyway, what’s next?”

Kei hums like he doesn’t exactly believe Tadashi, but moves on anyway. “Even easier. We have to beat these two in the mixer.” He gestures to two more bowls, one holding butter and the other, sugar.

Kei speaks over the whir of the mixer, peering over the edge. “We’ll do the eggs after this, one at a time.”

Tadashi is tempted to ask why it matters that they add them individually, but he’s sure that Kei actually does _know_ why that is, so he holds back.

“I’ll let you crack the eggs,” Tadashi says, as if it’s a monumental favor. “I’m sure I’d just get shell in the batter if I tried.”

“You should try,” Kei permits.

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Eggs won’t crack themselves, Yamaguchi.”

“Then that’s what you’re for.”

“I’m flattered,” Kei says, rolling his eyes. “But really. Try _one_.”

“Fine. One,” Tadashi agrees hesitantly.

The machine slows to a stop, Kei tilting the top upwards. He waits expectantly off to the side, and Tadashi figures he might as well just get it over with.

“Just be gentle,” Kei prompts. He must have done this hundreds— _thousands—_ of times in the past, if he’s been doing this for thirteen years, like he told Tadashi earlier.

Tadashi groans moments after giving the egg a quick rap on the side of the bowl. “Didn’t I tell you I was going to do that? Did I not say I was going to get shells in your batter?”

Kei shrugs, beginning to fish out pieces of shell with a spoon. “It isn’t the end of the world.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Kei,” Tadashi says, leaning his lower back against the countertop. He debates for only a moment before hoisting himself onto the counter, legs dangling just slightly above the floor. “I think I’m done helping,” he states.

“Are you, now?” Kei asks in response, looking up from the batter and to Tadashi.

“Yup.”

“Hm, that’s disappointing.” Kei frowns, setting the spoon he’d been using off to the side in favor of a hand whisk. He beats in the first egg, and then he takes another egg out of the carton. He cracks it with one hand, while he’s not even looking.

Tadashi swallows. “You’re showing off.”

“Am I?” Kei questions, looking down at the bowl. “I didn’t realize.”

“You are,” Tadashi confirms, crossing his arms over his chest. He kicks his legs, his heels bouncing off of the cabinet door behind them.

Kei hums in acknowledgment before he pours what Tadashi notices is buttermilk and then vinegar into the batter. Dirty measuring utensils are beginning to pile up beside Kei’s working area.

He works much more quickly and efficiently, Tadashi notes, when he’s working alone. It definitely makes sense when Tadashi thinks about his experience, added to that fact that he’s obviously faster if he’s not trying to teach his bumbling boyfriend something that he himself could probably do in his sleep.

Kei doesn’t seem to mind that much that Tadashi’s not helping, anyway, and—this makes Tadashi’s heart swell, just a bit—he figures that Kei had really just wanted his company.

Kei takes a step towards him, glancing at the cabinets just above Tadashi’s head. “Food coloring,” he explains upon noticing Tadashi eyebrows furrowed in confusion. When Kei leans in, Tadashi’s knees spreading to allow Kei’s hips to slot between them, Tadashi thinks that it’d definitely be some sort of crime if he didn’t kiss him right then and there.

Tadashi has a strong hunch, but he finds himself asking nonetheless: “Am I in the way?”

“You’re not,” Kei says, despite the fact that Tadashi so clearly _is._ He reaches around Tadashi and opens the cabinet just to his left, achingly slow. “Ah, here it is.” Kei takes the red food coloring out of the cabinet and shakes the little bottle in Tadashi’s face.

Tadashi lets out a breath, but frowns. “You’re really not going to kiss me?”

“That’s what you thought I was doing?” Kei chuckles, setting the food coloring bottle on the counter beside Tadashi’s thigh, but not moving away.

“Was I wrong to assume that?”

“I suppose not.”

Kei’s admittance makes Tadashi feel like he won something great, but that small victory is quite frankly nothing when compared to what comes next.

Though it’s exactly what Tadashi had asked for, when Kei leans substantially closer, it still manages to catch him slightly off guard. Kei’s breath is warm against Tadashi’s face, though he isn’t given much time to think about this before Kei’s lips ghost over his own. Tadashi _almost_ whines, but he manages to resist by taking Kei by the collar of his apron and shirt, yanking him closer. Tadashi barely makes out the small surprised gasp on Kei’s behalf, fabric still bunched up in Tadashi’s fist.

Their lips press together firmly at first, but Tadashi cocks his head so that he has some leverage. Once they’ve fallen into some sort of rhythm, it’s obvious that Tadashi’s the one leading. Kei’s pliant; he follows and mimics Tadashi’s movements with ease. That’s what it is, really—an _easy_ , slow kiss.

When they break apart, breathless and fluttering their eyes back open, Kei says, “Mom would kill me for doing that in her kitchen, I think.”

Tadashi snorts, and he thinks that the fact that Kei is unable to meet his eye might just make him melt right then and there. His pretty golden eyelashes brush against his cheeks.

“She probably would,” Tadashi can’t help but agree. He chuckles, and just momentarily leans forward to set his head on Kei’s chest.

Kei reaches for the food coloring, though, and slips from Tadashi’s grasp. Tadashi, mostly dazed, watches him step away to drop some food coloring into the batter.

Tadashi is awed at how Kei just picks his task up as if nothing out of the ordinary has taken place, taking care to deposit the same amount of batter into each paper liner.

Moving quickly, Kei sets the timer on the oven and closes the doors, sound reverberating slightly throughout the room.

“Shame we’ve got twenty-five minutes to kill,” Kei remarks, looking back over his shoulder. “Do you have any ideas?”

Tadashi, incidentally, has _several_ ideas of how they could kill twenty-five minutes, but he’d be much better off just showing Kei.

* * *

 

Before Tadashi even says hello the following afternoon, Kenma has a knowing expression on his face; one eyebrow slightly raised, lips pursed. There’s no _way_ he knows what Tadashi had been up to the night prior, and yet, Tadashi still feels like Kenma _definitely_ knows.

“It’s quiet in here today,” Tadashi observes, eyes doing a quick sweep of the cafe and its three customers.

“It has been so far,” Kenma agrees. “So, I let Akaashi go home.”

Tadashi hums in acknowledgement, reaching below the register where an extra sleeve of coffee cups are stowed. It’s 2:30 in the afternoon, but since he’d been unable to get to sleep for some time the previous night, exhaustion has already set in. He has hope that the coffee will stave it off until he can return home. But if the coffee isn’t enough to keep him going, at least Tadashi can wait for Kei to show up.

That’s until Kuroo walks through the door, anyway. (Tadashi _swears_ that his mood doesn’t plummet as soon as he sees Kuroo’s spiked hair walking into the cafe, really.)

He tries not to let the slump in his shoulders become too apparent, because he _does_ like Kuroo, genuinely. He’ll just have to hope that the next time they receive a delivery, it’s his own boyfriend walking through the glass doors.

“Isn’t Kenma around?” Kuroo asks, giving the counters and beyond a quick once-over. He quickly adds, “Hi, by the way! Not that I’m not happy to see you, just Kenma left before I woke up this morning, so I wanted to see him. And since I won rock-paper-scissors, I have to make the visit worthwhile.”

Tadashi, who finds himself a bit taken aback by the sudden onslaught of words, just nods and mumbles something about going to get Kenma. However, just as he turns and truly processes Kuroo’s monologue, he can’t help but ask: “Wait, you guys play rock-paper-scissors?”

Kuroo shrugs as if this isn’t crucial information (which it definitely _is_ , for the record). “We can never decide who gets to come, and that’s the only fair way to decide. I think Tsukki cheats, though, because he wins too much for it to be just chance.” Kuroo pauses for a moment, pressing the pad of his index finger to his cheek. “Anyway, tell Kenma his favorite boyfriend eagerly awaits his arrival!”

Rather than respond—partially because he’s too exhausted and partially because he’s still processing that his and Kenma’s idiotic boyfriends _actually_ have to play a child’s game to determine who visits—Tadashi just silently slips into the stockroom, giving a vague gesture towards the storefront.

“Kuroo’s here, you know. He eagerly awaits your arrival.” Tadashi pauses, leaning his weight into the doorframe, before he speaks again. “Those were his words, for the record.”

“Mm,” Kenma hums, not listening. Tadashi rolls his eyes—it’s Kenma’s loss, anyway. But it’s only another moment before Kenma registers what he’s heard, and his perks up ever-so-slightly. Tadashi resists rolling his eyes again, mostly because he can relate to what Kenma’s feeling. (Though not at this moment, because apparently Kei’s a loser and can’t even win rock-paper-scissors to come see Tadashi.)

Tadashi decides to hang behind as Kenma leaves the break room to see Kuroo, because he thinks he might explode if he has to experience anything lovey-dovey that doesn’t relate to him and Kei. Which—maybe that’s selfish, but Tadashi can’t bring himself to care.

It’s probably some sort of strike to fall asleep in the break room, Tadashi figures, especially when his coworker has to come in and wake him up. But it’s just Kenma, and since Kenma has at least a tiny sliver of pity in his heart, he lets Tadashi go home, too.

* * *

 

After their initial enlightenment to Kuroo and Kei’s rock-paper-scissors contests, Kenma and Tadashi wait expectantly the next scheduled delivery day to see whose boyfriend will reign superior for the day. (It’s not as if either of them have escaped the barrage of teasing that came from Kenma or Tadashi in the prior days, though.)

So, it’s fair to say they’re both surprised when Akiteru saunters in, a pink baseball hat perched on his head, complementary to the apron he wears and the boxes he carries. They both blink at him as the bell above the door jingles, waiting for an explanation.

After setting a few boxes down, Akiteru, speaking to both of them at once, says, “It’s been awhile!”

Tadashi hums in agreement, and Kenma nods. (They’re both still expecting some sort of explanation for Akiteru’s appearance. As far as they know, nothing should have happened to their boyfriends to render them unable to come in and deliver.)

Akiteru sighs, most likely realizing the conversation won’t progress any further unless he explains himself. “I was sick of them,” he finally supplies, pressing his palms against the counter. “So, I put them both in the back kitchen, on baking duty.”

Kenma snorts and Tadashi just stares at Akiteru, before asking for clarification: “Sick of them?”

Akiteru chuckles before he speaks. “They’re truly disgusting,” he says. “Always bickering about who gets to come. So, I decided that neither of them do.”

“Hm,” Tadashi contemplates. “Isn’t that unfair to us, too?”

Akiteru fakes a pout. “You don’t want to see me?”

“Ah, that’s not it.”

“That’s it,” Kenma interrupts. Tadashi glares at him.

“It’s _not_ ,” Tadashi insists. “It really isn’t.” He isn’t unhappy to see Akiteru, per se; he’d just been looking forward to seeing Kei. Nonetheless, he sets about making drinks to send back with Akiteru.

“Lying’s no good, Tadashi,” Akiteru scolds, waving a finger at him. Tadashi turns around as he makes the drinks to mask his embarrassment. “But anyway, Kei mentioned stopping by after his shift’s over.”

“He did?”

“Mhm,” Akiteru confirms, tapping his fingers on the counter.

There are a few moments of comfortable silence that follow, before Tadashi remembers the first time he’d gone back to the bakery with Kei to help him with a delivery. Akiteru had started to say something that was bound to be embarrassing of Kei, but they’d left before he could say it, which was undoubtedly Kei’s decision. But… Kei’s not here, now, so there’s no one to stop Akiteru from spilling whatever it is.

“Hey, Akiteru,” Tadashi starts, sliding one travel cup across the counter towards him. “This was awhile ago, but you mentioned Kei talking about me after him and I first met…” he trails, and Akiteru lets out a little puff of laughter. “Do you remember what he said?”

“I do,” Akiteru admits, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. (Tadashi blinks at him. The gesture reminds him of Kei, but that certainly makes sense.) “I’m not sure Kei would want me to tell you, though.”

It’s a knee-jerk reaction when Tadashi juts out his bottom lip. “Please?”

Akiteru seems to contemplate this for a moment, before leaning slightly forward. “He _did_ finish the last of my cinnamon rolls the other day, so I guess some payback on my precious baby brother would be in order.”

And Tadashi isn’t sure what to expect, really. He can’t imagine that Kei would say anything too embarrassing, can’t _really_ imagine his boyfriend having anything remarkable to say about him upon first meeting. He also can’t see Kei ever willingly telling Tadashi what he’d first said, so this is his only chance.

“It was something along the lines of,” Akiteru pauses, his smile falling into a flat line and his eyelids drooping as he gets into his brother’s character. “‘Yeah, I met Yamaguchi. He spilled all over himself and then panicked. It was… embarrassing. For both of us.’” Akiteru stops, expression faltering as a slight smile breaks through. (His impression is pretty bad in the first place, but Tadashi endures for the exclusive information.) “‘But, you didn’t mention that he’s exactly my type.’”

Tadashi’s jaw drops. “He _didn’t_ say that. Don’t tease me like that.”

“I swear!” Akiteru insists, but he’s laughing and it’s kind of hard to believe. “I swear on my first born child, that’s what he said.”

“There’s no way,” Tadashi denies.

Akiteru just shrugs, then. “Believe what you want.”

“There’s no way,” Tadashi repeats as he passes Akiteru the last coffee.

“Believe me or not,” Akiteru says, setting his cup down into the slotted carrier. “Ask Kei when you see him, later. I’m sure he’ll be _very_ forthcoming with you.”

Tadashi doesn’t know _what_ to believe.

* * *

 

True to Akiteru’s word, just as Tadashi’s closing up shop, the bell above the door rings and Kei walks inside. While asking him if he really did say what Akiteru said he did is a pressing topic (he’s been thinking about it for hours, now), Tadashi figures it’d be weird to bring it up right away.

“I was waiting for you to show up,” he says instead, and Kei smiles at the proposition.

“You’re pretty impatient,” Kei comments as he reaches the counter, watching as Tadashi wipes it down with a rag.

“Maybe.”

The cafe is sparsely lit by now, as only a couple of lights remain on: one over the register and one by the front door.

Kei makes no move to respond, so Tadashi elaborates: “The day dragged by, especially without my favorite visitor.” For once, he has no shame.

“Hmm,” Kei hums. “Yeah, sorry I couldn’t come by earlier. You know, Nii-chan stuffed me back in the kitchen with _tuna-for-brains_.”

Tadashi snorts, but then he raises an eyebrow. “I don’t remember saying that you were my favorite. It’s actually Kuroo.”

Kei doesn’t take the bait, just rolls his eyes and continues, “Nii-chan was happy to see you, anyway.”

“It was nice to see him as well,” Tadashi agrees (even if he hadn’t been _quite_ so happy in the moment). “He mentioned something, though…”

Kei blinks at him. “What?”

Tadashi hesitates. “It’s just—well, do you have a type?”

“I—” Kei starts to respond immediately, but cuts himself off as his cheeks flush.

“So it’s true!” Tadashi exclaims, before hiding a snicker behind his hands.

“You can’t be surprised,” Kei responds when he’s composed himself. “I mean, we’re dating, so.”

Tadashi almost lets Kei get away with this, but not quite. “But the first time you saw me, Kei! The first time!”

Even if Kei had managed to slightly dispel his blush from before, it’s now back at full force. “What did you think, then?” His words are barely more than a mumble.

“What did I think?”

Kei pauses, clearing his throat. “Of me.”

Tadashi clicks his tongue. “I thought you were cute. But I was too busy being mortified to recognize that until later.”

“You’re fond of the word ‘cute,’” Kei notes.

Tadashi leans forward, over the counter, and presses the pad of his index finger to the tip of Kei’s nose. “For you, darling.”

Kei can’t muster a coherent response.

“Come over here,” Tadashi suggests, then, because even the counter between them makes them too far away from each other. Tadashi doesn’t think about how disgustingly romantic that is.

Kei doesn’t reply, he just makes his way over. Before long, he’s wrapped his arms around Tadashi’s torso from behind, his chest pressing into Tadashi’s back.

“Just let me finish up,” Tadashi requests, chuckling. Kei reluctantly recoils.

There’s not much left for Tadashi to do besides finish wiping down the counters, so Kei won’t have to wait for long. It’s significantly more difficult for Tadashi to get work done with his boyfriend’s expectant gaze on him, though, so the task of wiping down the counters feels almost monumental.

“You’re working tomorrow, right?” Kei asks as Tadashi works, as if they haven’t exchanged schedules.

“Yep. And you’re not,” Tadashi answers, turning to glance back at Kei. “Why do you ask?”

“When’s your lunch break?” Kei inquires to answer Tadashi’s question.

“You don’t have to come on your day off,” Tadashi denies, waving his hand at Kei. He turns back to his work.

“Don’t have to. _Want_ to,” Kei clarifies, and Tadashi can’t help but smile as he faces away from Kei.

He gives in. “If you _insist_ , I won’t argue. My break starts at 12:30.”

“I insist,” Kei states, “And, noted.”

Tadashi manages to finish the task at hand, then, and so he sets the rag on the side of the sink.

Kei poses a seemingly innocent question, leaning against the back counter. “Is Kenma still here?”

There’s no evidence that he _is_ around, and Tadashi is fairly certain he mentioned going home to Kuroo, leaving him and Kei alone.

“I don’t think so, no,” he answers, giving a short glance over his shoulder.

“You don’t _think_ so?” Kei mirrors, incredulous.

“I’m like…” Tadashi pauses. “ninety-eight percent sure he left. Is there a reason you’re so curious today?” (He has an inkling as to why Kei may be wondering, but for all the teasing Kei has put him through, Tadashi thinks making him admit his ulterior motive is payback enough.)

“I—No,” Kei lies, gingerly pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

“Bad liar, Kei,” Tadashi says with a quick chuckle. “You always fix your glasses when you’re nervous, for the record.”

“I don’t do that,” Kei denies.

“You definitely do,” Tadashi insists.

As Tadashi’s gaze rests on him, Kei subconsciously lifts his hand to adjust his glasses again. He catches himself this time, though, and slowly lowers his hand again. “Fine,” he says.

“You do, Kei. You do.”

Kei furrows his brows at that, shrugging. Tadashi can tell that he’s trying to mask slight embarrassment—he’s doing a decent job, but Tadashi can see through it.

“It’s cute,” he informs Kei, taking small strides towards his boyfriend. Once Tadashi reaches him, his head rests just against Kei’s shoulder, exactly where Tadashi thinks it belongs.

“There’s that word again,” Kei hums.

Tadashi makes no move to respond, and instead loops his arms around Kei’s thin waist.

They remain for a few moments, standing with Tadashi taking a few well-deserved moments to close his eyes, and Kei resting his chin atop Tadashi’s head.

It’s gentle, and the melodic hum of the cafe’s soundsystem (which Tadashi has neglected to turn off), continues to play on in the background to the tune of a song that Tadashi has surely heard four times that day, alone.

“Yamaguchi—” Kei’s voice is a low drawl, barely catching Tadashi’s attention.

“Mm, I know. We’ll get going soon,” Tadashi promises. “Just… A few minutes, okay?”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“Oh,” Tadashi says, and then, “ _oh_ ,” as Kei hooks two fingers under his chin, directing his gaze upwards, eyes meeting before Tadashi diverts his own.

And unlike in the bakery, when Kei kisses him _this_ time, Tadashi feels more than prepared. It’s clear that there’s a slight sense of urgency in the way Kei approaches it, like the whole two days since they’d seen one another had been far too much time apart. (It had been, Tadashi thinks.)

“Kei,” Tadashi breathes, feeling absolutely _weak_. He’s finding unable to do much other than follow Kei’s lead. All he can think is that Kei is so _warm,_ so warm; they’ve held hands several times before, and Kei’s hands had been shockingly cold, but Kei’s warm now, warm and soft, and his fingertips drum at the bottoms of Tadashi’s shoulder blades.

And when they break apart, Tadashi thinks that all the air in the room has somehow disappeared, like he has to struggle to catch his breath.

“Guess I really am your type,” Tadashi says after a quiet puff of laughter, still unable to resist teasing in a situation like this.

It’s as if the teasing flicks a switch in Kei; suddenly, he’s switching positions with Tadashi, so Tadashi’s the one up against the counter. Kei hooks his hands on Tadashi hips and hoists him up, so he sits on the counter. “No teasing,” he says, only a few centimeters from Tadashi’s face.

“I’ll think about it,” Tadashi responds with a smirk, and leans forward to connect their lips again. Kei’s little try at dominance goes right over Tadashi’s head.

But in their haste, as Tadashi moves to press his hands to the counter behind him, he knocks into a metal canister and it topples off of the counter, falling to the ground. It hits the floor with a loud and reverberating clang, a few quieter sounds following. Kei and Tadashi pull apart, looking down at the canister that’s now rolling across the floor.

If that interruption wasn’t bad enough, the break room door then cracks open.

“What was—oh.”

Tadashi and Kei both stare at Kenma, wide-eyed and flushed. Kei takes a step back from where Tadashi sits on the counter.

Kenma opens his mouth, but seems to decide that a shake of his head is much more appropriate.

“You’ll have to clean the counters again,” he says disdainfully, but makes no further remarks as he steps back into the break room.

Tadashi lets out a deep breath and hops off of the counter, while Kei just stares at him.

“Before you say anything,” Tadashi starts, “I really thought he was gone.”

Kei refrains from any sort of retort. “Just clean up so we can head out,” he says instead.

Tadashi is quick to comply.

* * *

 

Tadashi flinches slightly when his phone vibrates in his pocket, and so he almost spills the cup he’s been filling. He doesn’t, though, and that’s what counts.

As soon as he’s given the customer their order, he slinks back from the counter to check his phone. There’s only one other customer waiting on an order, anyway, and Akaashi’s already working on it.

A text from Kei reads, ‘What do you want for lunch?’

Tadashi presses his index finger to his cheek as he thinks about it. Usually while he’s on shift, he’ll eat a granola bar or whatever else he’d thought to grab from home before he left, which isn’t often much. So, besides the obvious fact that he’s happy to be spending more time with Kei, Tadashi’s also a bit excited for the meal.

‘I could really go for a burger’ he types back, and when his stomach growls he sends another text as an afterthought, ‘and fries?’

His phone buzzes in his hand not thirty seconds later with a text from Kei asking him what he likes on his burgers. After he supplies this information, he’s met with another text: ‘Okay. I’ll be there soon.’

It’s only noon, so Tadashi still has half an hour to go before he can eat with Kei. But that’s not too long, considering he’s already been on shift for four hours, so he can endure.

The customers come in at a nice pace—just enough to keep the pair of workers busy, but not too much as to overwhelm them.

Naturally, Kei’s early, arriving ten minutes before Tadashi’s intended break with two paper bags in his hands.

“Go ahead,” Akaashi says soon thereafter, sparing Tadashi a knowing glance.

“Ah, thanks!” Tadashi voices his gratitude and slips out from behind the counter, meeting with Kei at a booth nearing the back of the cafe. Once they’ve sat down, Kei pushes one of the bags towards Tadashi.

“Thanks,” he smiles, unfolding the top of the bag and peering inside. “I don’t usually have lunch when I’m on shift,” he admits, reaching into the bag to take the wrapped burger out. He’ll leave the fries to sit.

“Really?” Kei asks, unwrapping the tinfoil from his own burger. “I might have to do this more often, then.”

“I wouldn’t complain,” Tadashi says, and then takes a bite.

It’s pleasant, to sit here with Kei without needing to constantly talk.

Tadashi just barely recognizes the sound of the bell above the door jingling as Akiteru comes in, approaching Akaashi at the counter and lightly conversing with them. Tadashi supposes that Kuroo hadn’t wanted to come, undoubtedly since Kenma’s not on shift today.

After he thinks about it for a moment, Tadashi realizes he really loves all these little details and nuances in his life—in this cafe and in the bakery down the street. Everything’s so… _intertwined_. There’s no doubting that he’s happy around here and around these people he’s gotten to know so well.

Tadashi can’t help but to smile to himself at the thought and at the swelling feeling in his chest. And when Kei asks “What’s up?”, all Tadashi can muster is a little shake of his head, mostly because he doesn’t know that he could put this into words.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading!! we hope u enjoyed.  
> kudos / comments / bookmarks are all appreciated! <3


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